


The Fall of the Drakons

by PhoenixAlmighty



Category: Geneforge
Genre: Action/Adventure, Amnesia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 66,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixAlmighty/pseuds/PhoenixAlmighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A novelization of one path the player can take in Geneforge 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pacification Fields

The Shapers were a group of people who learned how to create life.

They used their power to conquer those with whom they had not shared their knowledge, creating armies of hideous monsters to devastate their foes. As they ran out of land to conquer, they turned their powers towards making things better for themselves and those they now ruled. In the following centuries, they made serviles, creations that were humanoid and intelligent but, as their name implied, utterly servile, to be their servants. They made ornks, pig-like creatures, for food. They made plants to populate barren wastelands. They made laws to regulate who could learn what about magic, and instituted a death sentence for any outsider who learned how to Shape life. Shaper power was absolute.

Or, at least, it had been.

Some saw Shaper rule as tyranny and itched to break free of the laws they made. So an alliance of disgruntled humans and angry creations stole some of their masters' power, built up an army in secret, and attacked. This rebellion had devastating consequences for Terrestia, the continent where the Shapers lived. Thousands died. Once-proud cities were razed. The drakons, the creation leaders of the rebellion, took the eastern half of Terrestia. Creations made by both sides fought and died while their creators worked to make new monsters that could wreak even more devastation.

Ten years after the war started, the Shapers and the rebellion were in a gruesome standoff. Both sides were too proud to ever admit defeat. Ever stronger generations of creations savaged each other as those caught in the middle ran for their lives.

Of course, none of that really mattered to a certain human woman in the Whitespires, the mountain range in the far north of Terrestia's west side.

This woman could remember only the past two years, and those two years were filled with a haze over her mind. All she knew was the frigid Foundry, where new types of creations were sent to be studied and declared to be useful — or not. She took creations to their cells, fed them, watered them, cleaned up after them, and didn't — couldn't — care about anything else.

Until one day...

 

* * *

 

She woke up.

The haze over her mind had lifted. Not entirely, of course, but, for the first time in her admittedly short memory, she had something approaching clarity of thought. Granted, it didn't do much other than approach before scampering off like a small animal scared of something it's never encountered before, but it was a start. She rolled out of bed and realized that the barracks where she slept was empty. She also noticed that she seemed to have been living with a bunch of serviles — which was odd, considering that she herself was human. When she looked down at herself, she saw that she was wearing the robes of a Shaper, but they didn't fit her very well, and they were rather threadbare and in need of a wash. Also, they were an odd color for a Shaper's clothes: bright, eye-popping green. She could hear something outside, but it took her a moment to pin down what it was: serviles working? Creations roaring?

Then she got it: screaming.

She started looking around for something she could use to defend herself. She recalled that there was a dagger and some armor in a storeroom to the south of her bunk and decided to go get it, hoping that her memory was trustworthy as far as it went. It was. She armed herself, also taking the two healing pods in the cabinet there, and walked out, feeling slightly better, to see that the door out of the barracks was open and a servile was standing there, holding a rusted, dented, and unused dagger. The woman's mind told her, somewhat uncertainly, that the servile's name was Mehken. Mehken said, slowly and loudly, "Come! Creations rogue. All. All creations rogue. Come! We control!" She was treating the woman the same way a normal human would treat a servile: As one who was rather stupider than oneself. Perhaps it had been justified in the past. The woman said, "The creations have all gone rogue? Why?"

The words came out raspy and barely comprehensible as if the woman hadn't spoken in some time, which, now that she thought about it, she probably hadn't. Mehken noticed, but answered the woman's question as best she could. "Don't know. Creations happy. Quiet. Then they are not. They go rogue. They attack us. We go now. We pacify them."

"How do we pacify them?" the woman asked.

Mehken held up her dagger. "We shout at them. We jab them. If they stay rogue, we kill them. That is what Shapers say. Rogues die. We go now, before more serviles die." Then she walked out of the building, shooting a look back at the woman as she went. She seemed unusually alert for a servile.

Not having anything better to do, the woman followed Mehken out into the clearing beyond. There was a pylon a few feet beyond the door, which the woman's memory told her, more certainly this time, was supposed to calm creations. However, since it appeared to have been smashed, the woman doubted that it would be of any use. Mehken held up a hand and said, "Stop." The woman got the feeling that Mehken had been ordering her around for a while. "The calming pylon has been smashed. Something is coming. Be ready."

"What should I do?" the woman asked.

Mehken looked over at her. "We fight rogues, or they eat us." Four serviles ran into the clearing, screaming and followed by some things that looked like bigger versions of beetles. Mehken rushed at them, swinging her dagger. "Come! Help them!"

The woman didn't need to be told twice, which she would later think was odd. She rushed them, stabbing and slicing the bugs as they tried to eat her, Mehken, or the other serviles. They were almost comically easy to kill; they weren't very fast, and they were small enough that just about any harm done to them with something sharp would kill them. Once they were all dead, Mehken sighed, wiped the goo from the bugs off her blade, and said, "Not hard. Bugs are pests. Not good. Best dead." She looked over at the four serviles that bugs had chased into the clearing, who were now much relieved, but still scared, and said, "We save all. Am glad. We must move. More rogues to pacify." She made as if to walk off.

The woman said, "Wait. I have a question."

"Question? You full of surprises today. Creations change. You change too. What?"

"Who am I? How did I get here?" the woman asked.

"Don't know. Mighty Shaper Rawal come one day. Dump you on us. Says you work with serviles. Says take care of you. This years ago. You quiet. You work. Is all I know."

"Why am I dressed like this?"

Mehken chuckled. "You dressed strong, like lady. You like that calms rogues. We get torn, fancy clothes. Put on you. You like them. Make you calm too. Need wash though."

On that point, at least, the woman agreed. "What should we do now?"

"Hunt rogues. Calm them. Kill if must. Then, if we good, we get reward. Big dinner! More sleep! Enough talking. Now we go hunt." She pointed at the woman's clothes. "We dress you up strong. Make you look good. Calm creations. You go first. I follow."

Not having much choice, the woman walked ahead of Mehken. She didn't need to ask which way to go, since there was only west into the barracks and east into parts unknown. They hadn't gone very far east when Mehken put a hand on the woman's shoulder to stop her and pointed at a building to the north, where something was banging into things inside. "Was afraid of that. Thrasher is loose." As if on cue, something roared. The woman tried to stand ready, but she was suddenly feeling ill. She was doubled over by a wave of nausea, which ended quickly.

It was followed by something far worse. The woman felt as if her insides were going to leap out of her and kill whatever Thrasher was on their own. She let out a groan of pain. A burning sensation raced through her body, but it was quickly eclipsed by rage — at what, she wasn't quite sure. She also felt a lot of power inside her trying to get out. She held up one hand. Wisps of flame danced on it. Mehken watched impassively. The woman looked up at her. "What's happening to me?"

Mehken said calmly, "This could be useful. Thrasher is terrified of fire. Direct some at it. You might calm the beast." The woman barely noticed that Mehken was speaking like a human, rather than in the crude speech most serviles used, as a battle alpha charged out of the shadows to the north. It was eight feet tall, about average for a creation of its type, muscular, and humanoid, wearing only a loincloth and with red fur all over its body. The woman decided that, since a mere creation was daring to challenge a human, some fire might teach it to obey its betters.

A bolt of flame traveled down the blade of the woman's dagger and leaped off the end, striking the alpha and singeing its fur. It shrieked and cowered back. The woman looked at her hand again. The flames were gone, but she knew she could call them again in an instant if she chose. She also realized that she had remembered how to heal as well; the technique was different, but the power was the same.

She and Mehken continued east until they had to turn south into an icy ravine. Looking down it, the woman could see scaly shapes in the fog. She started to go that way, but Mehken stopped her. "I see it. In your face. You are having another... attack. Do not fight it."

The woman realized that Mehken was right. The burning feeling was returning again. She stayed calm and looked back down at her hands at the same time Mehken did. Mehken jumped back in shock at what she saw there. There was a globule of essence, the raw material that was used to create life, seemingly hovering in midair between the woman's hands. The woman instinctively knew what to do with it, how to Shape it into something that would fight for her; she manipulated it, bending the universe to her will as she Shaped...

...and a moment later, a fyora stood there in front of her.

Fyoras were one of the first types of creation that any Shaper (or, if one was a rebel, any lifecrafter) learned to make. They were small things that looked like dinosaurs, perhaps four or five feet tall, with red scales. Their saliva was flammable, and they could set it alight while it was still in their mouths and spit it at things their masters wanted killed. They also had a vicious bite in case anything got too close. They were very common, and were used as bodyguards and pets throughout Terrestia. The one the woman had created was somewhat misshapen, with a twitchy jaw and cracks spiderwebbing across its skin. Thin red fluid ran down its sides. Mehken looked ill, but the woman knew she could do better than that. She was merely out of practice.

Mehken said, "This is not a surprise."

The woman instantly latched onto that. "You were expecting this?"

"We knew you were unusual. We knew Shaper Rawal kept you here for a reason. We knew from looking at you that you were different. That you had been touched by the arts of the Shapers."

"Touched by the... what?"

Mehken shook her head. "No time to talk. More rogues are coming. We will talk later." The three of them went south, ready to fight some rogues. The fyora stumbled along, hissing and waiting for the woman's next command.

The rogues to the south turned out to be worms. As they slithered towards the woman, Mehken shrugged. "Don't know why the Shapers kept them around. Best squish them. No loss."

The woman's newfound ability to call fire enabled her to kill some of the worms at range, and while her fyora may have been less than perfect, it was still more than capable of spitting fire at those that remained. The worms were dispatched almost as easily as the beetles had been. The little group continued south until they came to a turn westwards in the ravine, with a door in the east wall, operated by a lever. The woman pulled it, and the three walked through. The hall it led into turned out to lead west anyway, south of their other choice. As they walked, they came across a length that had four sealed Shaping vats on each side. Fresh creations were often put in such vats in a nourishing solution for a few days to gain strength, as was the case with these. The things in the vats were trying to get out, and they were succeeding. They turned out to be more easily-killed bugs. After getting rid of them, the woman continued west, Mehken and the fyora following her.

They exited the hallway on the west side of the clearing they would have gone through had they turned west at the junction. There was another non-functioning pacification pylon in the middle, with a roamer next to it. Roamers were dog-like creatures that, like fyoras, had strong jaws and useful saliva; however, instead of being flammable like a fyora's, a roamer's spit was poisonous, doing its damage over a few seconds. The group stayed away from the roamer and went north. As they did, the woman started to feel an itch in the back of her mind. It felt familiar; she just needed to think a about it for a moment, and she could figure out what it was...

No such luck. Mehken stopped her and said, "Wait. We need to talk."

"Yes? What about?"

Mehken said, "Shaper Rawal is the lord of the Foundry, a full member of the Shaper Council. Over two years ago, he dumped you here with the loyal serviles and said you were to be kept safe. Safe and dumb. Sometimes, he sent someone to check on you. Nothing changed. You were always dumb. Always safe. You were just left here. We thought this was odd. We watched you for the change, too. Now it has happened.

"You have power. Rawal will want it. The Shapers are desperate and terrified. They will offer all who can help them money and power and influence. Rawal will offer these things. Do not let greed take you. Remember there are other paths. It will be hard, since Rawal controls you."

"He controls me? How?" asked the woman.

"You will know soon. It is one thing I know about Rawal and his ways." Mehken tapped the woman in the center of the chest. It felt oddly numb there; she'd have to look closer when she got out of the cold.

"There is not time to say more," Mehken said. "We need to get to Minallah. Safety and warmth. What do you say?" Mehken watched the woman for an answer, and the woman knew that whatever she said would find its way to… to whoever Mehken's employers were.

The woman said, "I haven't seen much of the Shapers... but I'm not sure I like what I have seen."

Mehken nodded. "You will like them less. You have not met Rawal. You will soon, now that you have changed. Now come. Let us find the next mad creation." And with that, she turned and walked off into the snow. The woman followed and turned her mind back to the task of figuring out what the itch in the back of her mind was.

Pretty soon, she saw the source: a vlish. Vlish were creations that hovered in the air, with three tentacles extending from the front of their bodies. They were made to control small packs of creations, and this one had been doing exactly that since the chaos started. It hadn't been to help the woman, though. Mehken muttered, "That one. Just got here. Hadn't tamed it yet. Rogue, I'm sure." Perhaps this was the reason all the creations had gone rogue.

As they got closer, the woman saw the creations behind the vlish, held immobile by the thing: a few worms, a few bugs, and a fyora, much better made than her own. She decided that they wouldn't be problems unless they attacked her. Of course, knowing the way this day was going, they probably would. She shook her head to clear it and flung a bolt of fire at the vlish. Mehken and the fyora followed her lead and attacked it as well. This rogue, however, took a lot less damage than any of the others had. It fired a bolt of energy out of its center tentacle, which the woman just barely dodged. Worse, it made one of the rogue worms by the walls come and attack them; that one wouldn't do any damage on its own, but only if the woman could get it before it got to any of the three fighting the vlish, which meant the vlish would have more time to hurt them. The woman incinerated the worm and turned her attention back to the vlish.

The battle continued in this vein for a few minutes: the woman, the fyora, and the servile would attack the vlish; it would counterattack and have a new rogue attack them as well. Sometimes its attacks hit one of the three; when that happened, the woman would heal whichever had gotten wounded. Then, just as the vlish was starting to look panicked (or as panicked as something not even remotely humanoid could look), the door at the south end of the clearing opened and a deafening roar split the air. "Enough of this chaos! Step forward so that this minor scuffle can be resolved." The woman felt a sharp pain in her chest, disorienting her for a second. When she recovered, she found that she was walking forward. Another look confirmed that the vlish had stopped fighting. The woman came to a halt in the center of the clearing, facing south. A man in blue Shaper's robes, in much better condition than hers, walked through the door. The woman felt as if she should recognize him, but her mind had just become really cloudy. Mehken looked terrified. The Shaper looked at the remaining rogues and waved a hand, saying, "I absorb you!"

The rogues seemed to discorporate, and the matter that had once been them flew into the skin of the Shaper's hand. Then the Shaper looked at the woman's pitiful little fyora. "So you have been Shaped, as I thought. But what... what is that... thing? You are far from regaining a proper level of control." He waved his hand again and unmade the poor beast. The woman watched helplessly as her little companion was destroyed. The Shaper turned then to Mehken. "You are... Mehkon? Mikkey? No matter. Proceed into Minallah and rest. Then report for your next orders. There is still an extensive mess that needs to be cleaned. Go."

Mehken, still looking terrified, walked past the Shaper. Just before walking out the door, she turned back and looked at the woman. This close to Rawal, she didn't dare say a word. Then she headed south into Minallah. The Shaper didn't spare her so much as a glance: He was looking at the woman.

Finally, the Shaper spoke. "Now then... let's see how much you've changed. Do you know who I am? Do you remember, or is your mind still too muddled?" He paused for a moment. The woman said nothing. "I can see from your vacant expression that it is the latter case. I am Shaper Rawal, master of the Foundry and full member of the Shaper Council. I am the master here. Now that your unusual nature is starting to assert itself, I am eager to explore your capabilities and see how best you can be used. It is unfortunate that some entity is disrupting all my creations, but perhaps you can help."

The woman asked, "An entity disrupting your creations? Wasn't the vlish responsible?"

Rawal laughed dryly. "Don't try to think until your mind further returns. You'll save yourself time and effort. The vlish was a negligible non-entity. The current disturbances are caused by something much more powerful and mysterious."

"You want me to help you?"

"I am a full Shaper of the Council. You are not. I command your help. I need more quality agents in my employ. First, I need to explore your capabilities, and I have a very good idea for how to do this. First, though, we should return to my tower. It is warmer and more conducive to analytical thought."

The woman said, a bit sullenly, "I will follow you. If I must."

"That is wise, though we may need to take some steps to correct your attitude. You can earn great rewards for service. Wealth and power. I will be waiting for you with your new orders in Isenwood's Spire. I will send a servile to guide you from Minallah. That is all." Rawal turned and went back south, muttering, "On to the next mess..."

The woman took a look around her. This would likely be the last time she ever saw the pacification fields, and while she wasn't complaining about that, she wanted to remember it. Then, having nothing else to do, she walked south, into the little town of Minallah.


	2. Isenwood's Spire

Minallah was a small town, worn by centuries of wind and snow; its only reason for existing was so that those who needed to be at the Foundry but had no reason for being in Isenwood's Spire would have someplace to stay. Unlike most Shaper cities, it was rather unimpressive. Few wanted to be in a place so cold as the Whitespires, so those who had built the place had wasted no effort on giving magnificence to something that only a handful of people would ever see. Isenwood's Spire, to the west, looked much more interesting, even from a distance. It stretched up into the sky, its sides dotted with sparkling lights from its windows.

The woman walked into Minallah from the north, where the pacification fields were. The frigid wind cut through her tattered clothes and made her want to get to Isenwood's Spire, which Shaper Rawal had said was warmer, as soon as possible. As she walked, she came to a clearing where most of the new creations sent to the Foundry were evaluated for the first time, to ensure that they were disease-free and that it was known what would be needed to keep it calm. There were two humans and a roamer there. One of the humans was an Agent, one of the Shapers who served as spies, diplomats, and assassins; the other was an ordinary soldier, holding a chain around the roamer's neck. They were shouting at each other over something; the woman couldn't hear what, but judging by the way the roamer was drooling and snapping, she guessed that it was almost rogue, and the humans were arguing over whether or not to kill it. The woman came closer and listened to their conversation.

The Agent shouted, "Did you not hear me? I am Agent Alurha, and I am not just any Agent, I am an envoy of the Council. I say this creation is rogue, and we both know that only one thing is done with rogues."

The soldier shook his head. "I work for Shaper Tanethin. His order is that this is a unique and potentially valuable specimen. It is to be kept alive, on a Shaper's authority." As if to undercut his words, the roamer snapped at his foot; he kicked it in the head.

Alurha said through gritted teeth, "You question me? You? An outsider? I don't care what your Shaper said. I am here, not him. I decide what will happen, not him. And I say that rogues are destroyed."

The soldier opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver a blistering retort, but before he could get himself in trouble, the woman said, "Perhaps I can help."

Agent, soldier, and roamer all turned to look at her in surprise. In the wind and snow, it was hard for them to see just how worn and dirty her clothes were. Agent Alurha frowned and said, "Appreciate the offer, I suppose. But this is a rogue, and therefore it is dangerous and must die. That's the law. The sooner we do it, the sooner we can all get out of the cold."

The soldier countered, "This roamer is valuable! It would be insane to kill it without trying to save it, and my Shaper will be absolutely furious if you do."

The woman said, "I don't see what makes this roamer so special. Would you care to enlighten me?"

The soldier said, "Look closely." The woman did, and after a moment, she saw it: The roamer glowed slightly. The soldier said, "It's a new design, to help hunt in mines and caves. You can see it easily in the dark."

Alurha snorted. "Until it goes rogue and kills you." The soldier pointedly ignored her.

The woman murmured, "Hmmm... Let me see... " She squatted on the ground in front of the roamer. As she did, she felt a bond with it. An affinity. She felt that strange power again, and sent some of it, along with calming thoughts, through the bond. It worked. The roamer stopped drooling and hissing, and the woman stroked the top of its head. Then she stood up and smiled. "There."

The soldier said, "Thank you. With your permission, I'll go check this in." He walked off. Agent Alurha just snorted before going in a different direction. The woman just stood there for a moment, marveling at her newfound abilities: first the fire, then the healing, and now this. She wondered if there was any limit to what she could do, if only she could unlock more of what she'd lost. Finally, she sighed and headed west to Isenwood's Spire, where her master awaited.

When she got to the entrance, a shivering servile walked up to her and said shyly, "I Gevik. Shaper call. I take. Follow Gevik." He turned around and walked quickly inside. The woman followed, wondering what awaited her in Isenwood's Spire.

Isenwood's Spire was an old Shaper fortress. It had originally been made by hollowing out a huge, natural rock formation into a series of chambers that spiraled up to the top. Some were natural; others had been enlarged or simply blasted out wholesale with magic. It was warmer and darker inside, but more importantly, it gave the woman a sense of security. The Shapers were masters of that; fortresses like Isenwood's Spire were meant to convey the message that the Shapers had been around for centuries and meant to stay for centuries more.

The woman followed Gevik up through the spiral of rooms. Looking into adjoining chambers, she saw guest quarters, a hospital (equipped for humans only, she noticed), and a Shaping laboratory, among other things. As they approached the top and the spiral got tighter, she saw four war tralls standing in an alcove in the hallway. War tralls were creatures somewhat like battle alphas, but instead of fur, they had thick, leathery, gray skin, and they had pouches with stones in them that they could throw at enemies they couldn't reach with their fists. There was something odd about these tralls, though: they were staring off into space without doing anything else. They were barely even breathing. The woman knew, even though she was muddled and confused, that they shouldn't have been that calm without a Shaper nearby to keep them under control. Then she looked at the floor and saw each was standing on a stone platform that had glowing crystal power conduits running into it. It seemed Rawal kept his creations under control with machinery. The woman wondered if other Shapers did the same. Gevik kept moving farther up as the woman followed. A curve or two later, the woman saw another alcove like the one with the war tralls, but this one had four thahds in it. A thahd was another muscular humanoid creation, though closer to the size of an actual human; a human brawler might be able take one down in a one-on-one fight, provided he knew what he was doing. As the woman passed them, she felt a cold, invisible presence flicker through the hallway. It touched her mind for an instant, then turned its attention to the thahds. Then it was gone. That thahds, however, seemed to be waking up from their trance, and they were drooling. The woman was quickly learning to associate drooling with being rogue, and these thahds only reinforced that association: one of them growled at her.

She was dimly aware of Gevik looking back for a moment, and then running off, no doubt to get help. She knew she didn't have enough time to calm them the way she had the roamer outside in Minallah; she would have to use force. She didn't want to kill them all, so she did to one of the thahds what she'd done to Thrasher: she singed it with a bolt of fire.

It didn't work.

All four thahds roared and charged her.

Well, that decided it. She was going to have to kill the thahds before they killed her.

She finished off the first thahd with another burst of flame, then the other three were upon her. Almost all at the same time, they hit her in the chest, sending her stumbling backwards into the opposite wall. They advanced again, throwing punches at her head; she barely dodged aside. Their fists hit the wall, drawing a meaty thwack from them. They didn't seem to notice the pain the woman was sure they were feeling. She drew her dagger and beheaded the thahd closest to her, leaving only two. They snarled and turned to face her again. The woman let loose a sustained gout of flame at one of them; it howled in pain and fell to the ground, dead. The one thahd remaining snarled and charged her, throwing a punch at her face; she ducked underneath its fist, rammed her dagger into its heart up to the hilt, twisted, and pulled it out again. The thahd dropped like a stone.

The woman stared the bodies of the four thahds, shocked. Where in the world had that come from? She'd never even had a violent thought that she could remember before that day; now she had burned a battle alpha, incinerated some worms, and destroyed four thahds in the space of a few hours. She was startled out of her reverie by the sound of running footsteps approaching from higher in the tower. She turned to look and saw Gevik and a Guardian coming.

Guardians were the third sect of the Shapers, the other two being the Shapers and the Agents. Guardians were primarily fighters; they had the best combat training the Shapers could offer. What set Guardians apart from mere soldiers, even elite ones, was that Guardians could Shape creations to aid them in battle. This one didn't look especially big, but he held a steel broadsword ready, and it looked as if he knew how to use it. He and Gevik slowed down as they saw the four thahds on the ground. The Guardian lowered his sword and nudged one of the bodies with his toe. Then he sheathed his blade, turned to the woman, and said, "Impressive. I was told that you would be useful to Shaper Rawal, but I didn't know just how useful."

The voice coming from under the Guardian's helmet surprised the woman: the Guardian was female, too! She may have had amnesia, but even so, the woman knew that most Guardians were male. Up until that day, she'd thought all Guardians were. The Guardian continued. "My name is Guardian Manola. Walk with me. You too, Gevik." With that, Manola turned and started back up the spiral. The woman and Gevik followed.

As they walked, the woman asked Manola, "So you're a Guardian?"

"I am," Manola said. "It was my goal from an early age. I showed potential and was welcomed into the Shapers, and in my training, I discovered that my gender was the only reason I could not achieve my goals. As a woman, I could have been a Shaper — many Shapers are women. But I did not have the patience to sit behind a desk and be a researcher all my life. As a woman, I could have been an Agent — all Agents are women. But Agents must be stealthy and diplomatic, and I much prefer the direct approach to solving problems. I could not, however, be a Guardian, or so I thought. I was about to leave, but Shaper Rawal saw my potential and cleared the path for me. I am loyal to him for that. In order to pass the physical exams, though, I had to... take steps. Shaper Rawal can make the impossible possible for those who serve him loyally."

Manola, the woman, and Gevik reached a large room that looked like a training gymnasium. There were sticks supporting straw men that looked as if they had been beaten, cut, stabbed, and burned, and there were targets on a wall that bore many holes. The woman noticed that most of the holes were in the bullseyes of the targets, with very few in the second and third circles out and none at all beyond that. Manola said, "Shaper Rawal has directed me to give you these." She indicated a table at the side of the room that had several items on it. First, she pointed at a pair of blue crystals. "These have been hollowed out and filled with essence. If they're broken, by being thrown at something you want dead, for example, the essence will be released and do what it was enchanted to do. These have been designed to throw bolts of ice at your enemies; there are others out there that will do other things." She then pointed at what looked like a stick with some sort of plant growing out of it. "This is a thorn baton. It is a creature that is part animal, part plant, and part fungus, living inside a specially designed shell. When given the proper type of thorns, it can spit them out at high speeds if you press this part." She indicated a fleshy bump on the creature. "As with the crystals, there are several different types of baton, each firing a different sort of thorn. This one will take only thorns that have a certain relatively impotent but very fast-acting venom, such as the ones beside it." As the woman collected the items, Manola said to Gevik, "Take her the rest of the way to Shaper Rawal." Gevik nodded and began to walk up the spiral again. As the woman followed, she looked back and saw that Guardian Manola had drawn her sword again and was practicing a series of maneuvers that looked rather complicated and extremely deadly.

After a few more chambers, Gevik led the woman into Shaper Rawal's throne room, near the top of the spire, and stood next to the entrance. The woman guessed that the only rooms above her were Rawal's private chambers. Rawal was looking through a sheaf of reports. When the woman came in, he waved her closer and said, "Hurry. I expect greater speed from my underlings."

The woman sped up not at all. She didn't like being ordered around. When she got close to Rawal, she got a better look under the hood of his robe. He seemed to be about middle-aged. He hadn't shaved in a while, and his whiskers were patchy and gray. He also radiated power, so much that the woman could have found him with her eyes closed. Rawal said, "Best get the preliminaries out of the way. I am Shaper Rawal, full member of the Shaper Council, one of the Seven. I enlist you in my service. Prepare for my command."

The woman said, a little sarcastically, "I eagerly await it."

Rawal said, "That is the correct attitude." He didn't seem to have picked up on her sarcasm. He continued, "But it is real or feigned? I think, either way, it is best to give a demonstration of my power over you." He waved a hand.

The woman said, "Wha—"

She suddenly felt as if a red-hot poker had been rammed straight through her heart.

Once she stopped gagging, she picked herself up off the icy floor and pulled her clothes away from her chest. There was a fleshy bump on it, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. In a few seconds, it faded away, becoming almost invisible. She looked back up at Rawal. He smirked at her.

"What have you done to me?" the woman asked.

"It is called a control tool. It's a variant on a living tool." Living tools were small, multi-tentacled creatures that were often used to pick locks and fix machines. "Instead of many tentacles, it has one, and instead of going into a machine, it goes into your chest. I can have it tear your heart open if I desire. It is a fact, and it cannot be removed. You will earn great rewards for your service to me, but there is no escape from it. Now to address the next bit of business. You were guided to Minallah by a servile named Mehken. I have checked my records and found that, while she has worked here capably for a number of years, she displays a bit more intelligence and independence than I prefer in my serviles. Have you noticed anything about her that would make you think that she is less than loyal to the Shapers? Remember that exposing rogues is a sure path to great rewards."

"I think she's completely loyal," the woman lied. Mehken was, to her, quite clearly a spy for someone who was working against the Shapers, but despite the rewards Rawal promised, the woman wanted to get a little more perspective before she formed an opinion on the Shapers.

Rawal was silent for a moment. He said, "You are still confused." The woman could tell that he still had his suspicions about Mehken, but she didn't know if he'd bought her lie. "I would give you your first task now, but there are still a few matters for you to attend to." He snapped his fingers, and Gevik came closer. Rawal said, "Gevik will take you to the dining hall, where you will eat, and then to your personal chambers in this spire. When you return to me tomorrow morning, I will expect you to have bathed and dressed yourself in the clean garments you will find in the closet there. Leave me."

Not having any choice, the woman turned and started to walk out. She was halfway gone when Rawal said, "Wait."

Not knowing what he was about to do, the woman stopped and turned back around to face Rawal. He said, "Do you remember what your name is?"

The woman realized that she didn't. All through the past two years, people had indicated her by simply pointing at her. No one had used a name for her in all the time she could remember. She shook her head mutely.

Rawal said, "I see. Then I shall give you one. Your name is Drassia."

The woman said her new name. "Drassia." She liked it. The newly-christened Drassia then turned and followed Gevik down the spiral, into her new life as someone who could actually do something useful.


	3. The Eastern Core

The next morning, Drassia returned to Rawal's throne room. The bath had been very nice — the first one she remembered having. The new Shaper's robes she'd found in her closet were in good condition, and they actually fit her, as if they'd been tailored. Perhaps they had, though she couldn't remember ever being measured for clothes. They were, however, still bright green. She wondered why Rawal wanted her to wear a Shaper's clothes if she wasn't one.

As she entered, Rawal seemed lost in thought. It was a few moments before he noticed her. "Ah, there you are. Before I give you your first task, you should know this: you have been extensively altered by the arts of the Shapers. You have forgotten all that you gained, though over the past day you have remembered a few things. If I am correct, what you have remembered is only a small fraction of what you used to be able to do. I suspect that you were Shaped badly, or too much over a small period of time, and that this is why you were rendered almost useless. Even so, the more... tradition-bound members of the Council would destroy you in an instant if they knew what you were. I will protect you, though. I will hide it. You should be grateful.

"As for how you can regain the rest of what you lost, some will come with time. Some will come with training. And some..." Rawal stood and approached Drassia. "Let us see what we can unlock." He touched her on the head; she felt herself freeze in place. "Let us search. I will see what signs I can recognize, what markers I can... ah. As I thought. The simplest forms were those to be implanted."

Drassia suddenly remembered two things she had once been able to do. The first, a way to render her enemies insensate for a few seconds; the second, a way to give her allies a temporary battle blessing.

Rawal returned to his throne. "Help me, and I can give you so much more." If this was true, Drassia thought, she would have to reconsider how much she wanted to help him. She wanted to remember what she had been able to do, and if Rawal could help her do that... she would help him, no matter how distasteful she might think his tasks were. "Now on to the final, tedious business we must do: your task.

"As you may be aware, the Foundry has recently been afflicted by what we have been calling the Presence. It is some sort of shade or spirit, and when it is nearby, creations are disturbed and frequently go rogue." Drassia realized that this must have been what had made the four thahds from the previous day go rogue and attack her; she was suddenly very glad that it hadn't happened when she was near the war tralls or the wingbolts that Rawal had replaced the four thahds with. "This is disturbing to me. Not only is it very difficult for a Shaper to face losing control of his creations, but the Presence is also costing me considerable money and influence." He took a crystal out of his pocket and handed to Drassia. "This stone glows in the presence of certain types of essence and energy. I found, through good fortune, that it glows when the Presence is nearby. I want you to destroy it. This will both help me and be an excellent test of your skills."

"Where should I look for it?" asked Drassia.

"I would look in the Foundry Core," Rawal replied, "which is the network of tunnels in the northern part of the Foundry. I will ensure that the doors to the Foundry open for you. The most recent disturbances have been in the eastern part of the Core. To get there, leave Minallah to the east. You will find yourself in the Promenade. The eastern Core is north from there. Also, I will assign the servile Mehken to help you and, if necessary, guide you through the Foundry. You will find her in the dining hall. She is a creation; use her as necessary."

"Do you have any ideas on how to destroy it?"

"I do," said Rawal. "However, I think that figuring it out yourself will be a puzzle for you that could help to focus your thoughts, and thus increase your usefulness to me."

Drassia thought about that one for a moment, then asked, "Can I get supplies and training?"

"Why, of course you can! You work for the Shapers, so you can draw on our resources." Rawal took a pouch of gold coins out of another pocket and handed it to Drassia. Looking in, she could see that it was full of small gold coins. "Believe me, the rebels cannot offer a fraction of what we can. That will hopefully be enough to buy you what you need. Serve the Shapers, and you can receive so much more. As for training, see Shaper Bruel in the Shaping laboratory for training in Shaping and healing, and Sage Fefer in the examination room for other sorts of magic. Ordinarily, you would not be allowed to learn Shaping, as you are not a Shaper, but I am willing to bend the rules on your behalf. Now run along. I have more important matters to attend to."

Drassia left, wondering just what could be more important than killing a being that could potentially destroy the whole Foundry. She headed down the spiral to the dining hall. As she entered, Drassia noticed someone approaching her. It was too dark for her to make out who it was until the person got close. It was Mehken. "You made it safely to Rawal. I was told you need a guide to hunt the Presence. I'd be happy to help." Drassia noticed that Mehken was still speaking like a human rather than a servile, though that may have had something to do with the fact that nobody else was around to hear.

"I would like that," Drassia said.

"I'm glad. I have my orders. But first, I have one thing to say. The Shapers are powerful, and they offer many things. Wealth. Power. Even peace. But it comes at a price. They will take your freedom. Take control." She tapped Drassia's chest. "Take total control. Remember that. Rawal offers much, but you do not have to take it."

"What would the Shapers say if they heard you talking like that?"

"It would go very badly for me. I take this risk for you. I hope I do not pay for it."

Drassia was silent for a moment. She wasn't sure just how else Rawal could take her freedom, but if it took more control than a thing in her chest that could rip her heart out, it would have to be pretty bad.

She banished those thoughts and said, "All right. Let's go."

 

* * *

 

The Foundry Core was even darker than Isenwood's Spire. The eastern part, where Drassia hunted now, was where new creations were brought for testing. Sometimes, the testing was harsher than simply taking samples of skin and blood; creations meant for battle would have to fight and withstand physical punishment. It was eerily quiet; instead of the shouts of overseers and the rattle of mine carts, all Drassia could hear was the hissing of rogues. She and Mehken had to have been the only people there. Getting there through the Promenade had not been difficult; even though the pacification pylons had failed and there were rogues all over the place, Drassia had only had to fix one by turning its power spiral back on to clear a path to the eastern Core.

Drassia and Mehken entered at the southeastern end of the Core. There was a passage leading to the east; Drassia wasn't sure what was down that way, and indeed had never even heard of any place to the east of the Core. There were also a passage going west and a door just to the north. Mehken suggested, "The entrance to the main control center is not far to the west. Perhaps we could go there and see if there's anything we can do." Drassia thought that was an excellent idea and went west. The entrance to the control center had suffered an explosion; the door had held, but there were cracks in it, through which light flickered. She went up to the door and peeked through the cracks. The scene she saw was bizarre.

The control center itself was undamaged, and, as one would expect, there was a control panel in the middle of the room. Control panels were creatures in wooden or metal shells that were hooked into power conduits or some such mechanism and could be used to control what the equipment did. The odd thing was the fyora in the room. It didn't act like a creation; it walked more upright, with more purpose than any fyora Drassia had ever seen. It walked up to the panel and pushed a button. Then it stopped.

A glowing nimbus of light began to emerge from the fyora's head. The fyora shuddered and used its foreclaws to push the nimbus back into its head. Then it returned to the control panel.

Drassia had a thought and fumbled the scrying crystal Rawal had given her out of her pocket. It glowed brightly, and Drassia had to cover it with her cloak to ensure that the fyora didn't see it. She was now certain that this fyora's body held within it the Presence. She looked over at Mehken, who was looking through a different crack. Mehken shuddered and said, "Being near it makes me feel..." She shuddered again. "We must destroy it."

On that, Drassia agreed. She went east again to the door she had seen earlier, Mehken following behind her. It had a sign near it that said, "Testing Halls: Main Entrance." It was a standard Shaper door: heavy stone intertwined with a fungal creature that could move the door as needed. Such doors could be set to open whenever anyone got close, or when only certain people got close, or when it received some other stimulus. When Drassia got close to it, it opened a little. That was odd; normally it would open all the way when someone got close enough, rather than only part of the way. She got closer; the door opened farther. She knew the Presence, through the fyora, was probably controlling it, and that if she walked through, it would probably close.

She mentally shrugged and went through the door, Mehken following behind. As she'd thought, it closed behind her. Drassia could hear the sound of claws scraping over stone and the faint hum of power conduits. The Presence thought it had trapped her in the testing halls with it.

She would just have to show it that it had trapped itself in the testing halls with her.

Drassia purposefully walked forward into the darkness. In front of her was a room that had probably once been used for initial evaluation and perhaps the taking of skin and blood samples. Now it was empty except for a few fyoras. Easy prey, she thought. She drew her thorn baton and fired a few shots at some of the fyoras as Mehken, still armed with the dagger from the day before, went to eviscerate the others. Drassia was pleased to discover that she was a fair shot with the baton and guessed that she must have used one before losing her memory. Once all the fyoras were dead, Drassia explored the room. She found a few things of use, but the real reason for looking around, the passage to the west leading to the control center, was blocked by rubble. She sighed. Looked like she would be taking the long way. She took the only exit from the room that was clear, a passage to the north that went west.

There were some mines up there. There were several types of mine, but most of them had one thing in common: they were connected to some sort of trigger. If one got too close to the trigger, it would set off all the mines it was connected to. The mines themselves would do different things when they went off; some would place a temporary war curse on anyone standing too close, some would poison people nearby, some would release essence that would form into creations, and some would simply explode. These looked to be the type that would spawn a creation when triggered, giving Drassia the choice of either disarming the mines or fighting the creations within. Wanting to conserve her strength for any battles she might have to fight ahead, she opted to disarm the mines. There were three sets of them, as far as she could see, each connected to a different trigger. The mines in the first set were small and easily disarmed; when she had to pass by the trigger, it sent a few jolts of energy to them, but since they were useless by now, no harm was done. The mines in the second set were bigger, and it was harder to disarm them. When Drassia was about to pass the second trigger, however, she noticed a passage to the south that was blocked by two fyoras. Thinking it might lead to the control center, she drew her baton and shot them, then went down the passage. There was a door there, and it had a sign next to it that said "Testing Halls: Control Center", but it didn't open. Disappointed, Drassia headed back to disarm the third set of mines.

There was, again, a door that led south. This one opened when Drassia got close to it, revealing four field pylons. These were tall wooden supports with crystals at their tops; when the crystals got power, they created an energy field that would rip apart any Shaped being that got too close. The more the being had been Shaped, the worse the damage done; considering how much Rawal thought Drassia had been Shaped, trying to walk through the field would be suicidal. Drassia looked around and saw, in one corner of the room, a spore box. It had a single control that, when twisted the right way, would release spores that would affect Shaped objects, such as, say, the field pylons. Drassia walked over to it and tried her hand at getting the box to work. When she twisted the control, it made a faint hissing noise. Drassia turned around and saw that the field pylons had been deactivated. She walked south through the passage that had been blocked by the pylons. There was a door there with a lever beside it; the lever had a lock on it that prevented it from being pulled. Drassia used a living tool to pick the lock and pulled the lever.

The chamber behind the door was small and dominated by a control panel similar to the one in the main control room, this one fused to the south wall. There were crystal power conduits running into and out of it. Drassia could tell that the panel controlled the power flow in the conduits, which ran through the south wall. Drassia realized that the south wall must be common to this room and the control room. She started to cut off the power flow, but stopped. An evil grin spread across her face as she got a better idea. She got on her knees and tried to force her still-muddled brain to work right as she sabotaged the power flow to give a nasty jolt to anyone who tried to use the control panel in the room to the south for anything requiring real power. It took her another two living tools, but she succeeded, or thought she had. That done, she went back north and disarmed the third set of mines, the biggest of them all. As Drassia headed west to face the next challenge, Mehken unexpectedly broke the silence. "I haven't been here in a long time. I don't like it. Not at all."

Drassia jumped; Mehken had been so quiet, Drassia had forgotten she was there. She said, "Why is that?"

"The creations are brought here and tested. They cry out in pain. Sometimes they go rogue. Many of them only make it out in pieces. It's... hard to hear. I'd rather be outside taking care of them."

Drassia started to defend the Shapers' tests, but suddenly remembered how she'd felt when Rawal had reabsorbed that first fyora of hers. True, it had been a pitiful, misshapen little thing and probably in pain for all of its short life, but dammit, it had been hers. She'd made it from her own essence, and, though it probably wouldn't have lasted much longer, the imperfect creation had served its imperfect creator faithfully. If she'd felt that bad when a creation it had taken her only seconds to make had died, she couldn't even imagine how a Shaper who had worked for months or years on something new would feel when they were given back a pile of limbs and told, "Your creation was found unfit for general use." She could see the necessity of the Shapers' tests, but...

She said, "You're right. It is horrifying. I can see why they do it, but I can't help but wonder if there's a better way."

Mehken nodded. "But there's nothing to be done. The Shapers can't be defeated, or so they say." She quieted and continued walking to the west. For a moment, Drassia wondered if Mehken had put just a little bit more emphasis on the "or so they say" part. Then she banished those thoughts and turned her attention to the task that still lay ahead of her.

Drassia and Mehken emerged from the passageway into a huge cavern. It was like a huge arena where creations designed for battle were pitted against (theoretically) weaker enemies. There were several small sections of the walls that had been built with a different color of stone. For centuries, Shaper law had forbidden fighting between creations for sport or amusement. Testing, it seemed, was different. Drassia looked around to see if there were any enemies that needed killing. She saw none, but she heard a click and a hum. Some crystal conduits in the floor, previously dormant, now glowed with power, carrying to machines spaced throughout the cavern. It seemed that some sort of defense system had been activated, but she couldn't immediately tell how it worked.

She cautiously moved forward, thorn baton at the ready, Mehken behind her. When she got close to one of the machines, it beeped, and one of the controls on its side started moving on its own. When it slid into place, several of the differently colored wall sections moved aside, revealing cells containing small creations that leaped out, ready to fight. These were just big beetles, but Drassia suspected that farther in, the cells would hold bigger creations. The beetles were easily dispatched with well-aimed thorns.

Once the beetles were dead, Drassia looked around again. The power conduits had to be getting power from somewhere... there. Each machine has hooked into one of the power conduits, and each conduit led to a power spiral next to a wall. It looked as if all she would have to do would be to turn off the spirals, and she wouldn't have to fight the creations in the cells.

Drassia worked her way through the cavern, turning off power spirals as she went. It had an exit to the south, but there was a machine there connected to a power spiral that Drassia just couldn't figure out how to operate. It was simply too complicated. She could see exactly where the cells would open up. There was only one thing for it, and that was to walk straight in and fight the things behind the doors. She cast a war blessing on herself and Mehken and triggered the machine. Three cells opened up, revealing two fyoras and one artila, a worm-like creature that had spit similar to a roamer's. They all leaped out of their cells, eager to fight.

Drassia took careful aim and incinerated the artila before it could do any damage as Mehken charged one of the fyoras. Mehken swung her dagger, but the fyora dodged, turning what should have been a fatal injury into a shallow gash along its side, and caught Mehken's left arm in its jaws, making her scream in pain. Drassia spun to help and realized that there was still another fyora for her to deal with when her spin barely took her out of the way of its fireball. She killed it with a well-placed thorn just as Mehken ran her fyora through. Mehken turned to face Drassia, allowing her to see the blood seeping through Mehken's sleeve. Drassia looked; the wound was messy, but not deep. She cast a small healing spell on it to close it up. As Mehken flexed her newly healed arm, Drassia took a look around the room and saw something she hadn't noticed before.

There was a crystal canister by the west wall. It was a foot high and contained... Drassia wasn't sure what it contained. It glowed a bluish-green color and seemed to leap about within the canister. While the sides of the canister were thick, the top was thin, and Drassia had a powerful compulsion to touch it. She did.

The stuff in the canister flowed through the top and into Drassia's hand, into her. It felt amazing, and even more so when she realized it had given her another new ability without the sickness that had prefaced the other times. As before, she simply knew what ability she had gained: she could now slow her enemies down. A powerful urge to find and use more of these canisters settled in her.

She turned back to the east, where she could finally get out of the battle cavern, and went to face whatever challenge the Presence might throw at her next. Mehken followed. But no new enemy leaped out from behind a corner, no new defense mechanism made itself evident, until they reached the control center.

The room was dominated by a huge control panel, the creature within shifting and occasionally letting out a puff of gas. The fyora that the Presence had taken over rose from behind it, its eyes glowing with a keen intelligence that Drassia could not remember ever seeing in any creation. Behind her, Mehken whispered, "I will be in control. Be in control. Be in control."

Drassia leveled her baton at the Presence-fyora and fired. Mehken took her cue and charged the thing.

It dodged both attacks effortlessly.

The strange, glowing nimbus of light emerged from its head again as Drassia prepared to... to... She stumbled back and clutched her head. The confusion that afflicted her every waking hour had just intensified tenfold. The nimbus sank back into the fyora's head, but a tendril remained outside, ready to attack the two of them. The creature turned to the control panel and pulled a lever, looking at two platforms in the back of the room, as if it expected something to happen there. It was completely unprepared when Drassia's sabotage took effect and a jolt of energy hurled it halfway across the room. It shrieked in pain, looking as if it was starting to disintegrate into the essence it had been formed from, but still alive for the moment, and determined to kill them before it had to flee its body.

It didn't even manage to hurt them. The damage being done to its body made it much slower, making it impossible for it to evade the thorns of Drassia and the blade of Mehken and enabling those two to avoid its bites and fireballs. Within seconds, the fyora's body was barely even recognizable, and the Presence withdrew. The glowing nimbus flowed out of the mass of goo into which the fyora was rapidly degenerating and fled to the west. Not all of it made it out, though. Some of it got trapped in the goo. Drassia thought that she might have actually hurt the thing.

Drassia found that she was tired after forcing her addled brain to do so much so quickly. Sabotaging the control panel and deactivating the power spirals had required her to push her mind to its limits, and she wasn't sure she could hunt the Presence any more that day. She went out the door in the south wall, which had unlocked itself when the Presence had fled, and back to Isenwood's Spire to rest before she went hunting again.


	4. The Western Core

The Western Foundry Core was where creations brought to the Foundry were kept. They were fed there and given fresh bedding in their cells and stayed there until they needed to be walked or disciplined. Or tested.

Of course, since the western Core was where most of the creations were, it was also where the Presence had been able to create the most chaos. Drassia could hear, from where she had come in from Isenwood's Spire, the hisses and roars of creations fighting and hunting, and she could smell blood, excrement, and trash.

She stood at the southwest corner of the warren of tunnels excavated from the Whitespires. Just to her north, five soldiers were camped. A hissing and spitting clawbug, a creation that looked like a six-foot-long scorpion, was tethered to a wooden pole near them. Drassia checked the scrying crystal and found that it was glowing. The Presence was nearby.

Hoping for information, Drassia and Mehken approached the soldiers. The soldiers were burning what looked like a couch to keep warm, and they were keeping their weapons ready in case any of the rogues got too close. One of them — a sergeant, by the insignia on her shoulder — said, "Do I know you? Doesn't matter. We've been waiting for someone to come take charge. Hope you're it."

"What's the situation?" asked Drassia.

"Not good. Whatever's been making the creations go crazy, it's out there now. We can hear the rogues howling like mad, and Cruncher —" she indicated the clawbug "— has been going insane. Normally she's as calm a clawbug as you could ever want. We've been out here for a while. It doesn't look good."

"I'm hunting the Presence. Where should I look first?"

"Well," said the sergeant, "there are two control centers in here. The one to the northeast is sealed up good and tight — saw that on a patrol. You might be able to get into the one to the northwest, though. You can override the lock on the northeast one from there. That's how the Shapers build things; you can never lock yourself out of anyplace."

"Thank you," said Drassia, and headed in the direction of the northwestern control center. Behind her, Mehken muttered, "Sergeant looked happy that you did not ask for her to come along."

"There's probably a reason for that," Drassia replied. She continued to the north.

They didn't get far before they found that their most direct route to the control center had been blocked by a cave-in. They would have to make a detour to the west to get there, and that meant heading straight into the midst of all the rogue creations. Drassia sighed and went west.

 

* * *

 

By the time they reached their destination, Drassia and Mehken had killed artilas, fyoras, worms, and one thing that Drassia hadn't recognized that looked like a cross between a snake and a pig. She didn't know what it was and hoped that its death would make its creator think twice about sending another one to the Foundry; she did not want to see things that ugly on a daily basis. They approached a door that said "Spawning Laboratory" on a sign next to it. When they did, it opened slightly, just like in the eastern Core. The Presence was baiting them again. Not having any choice but to take it, Drassia walked inside. Unsurprisingly, the door closed behind her.

A large crystal dominated the center of the room. Power conduits ran out of it into four stone platforms used for Shaping near the walls. On each platform, a clawbug stood. These clawbugs, however, were insubstantial and motionless. Drassia could see right through them. Just as she was beginning to wonder how the Presence was about to try to kill them again, the conduits leading to one of the Shaping platforms started to glow. The clawbug that stood on it immediately started to twitch and look more real. Soon, it would be complete, and it would try to kill her and Mehken. They would just have to see how much damage they could do before it could.

In between driving the Presence out of the eastern Core and coming to the western Core, Drassia had visited Sage Fefer, the man whom Shaper Rawal had told her could teach her magic. What he had done was less teaching Drassia than it was telling her things she'd once known but had forgotten, a very good thing, since, in her mental state, she doubted she'd have been able to use anything she was learning for the first time. She had gotten Fefer to teach her a bit of blessing and mental magic, but what she'd really been attracted to was the battle magic he could teach her: a spell for throwing at her enemies clouds of acid that would sink into them over the next minute or so, often doing enough damage to eventually kill them if they weren't healed or cured. Drassia thought that this was an excellent time to use that ability, so she did. She moved so that she wouldn't hit Mehken and sprayed the clawbug with acid.

It jerked and hissed just as Mehken got to it and swung her sword. Thanks to its chitinous hide, Mehken didn't do much damage, but the acid eating into its skin would kill it within the next several seconds. Unfortunately, since it was fully alive and ready to go kill something now, Mehken would have to defend herself as it tried to take her down with it.

As Drassia sprayed the remaining clawbugs, on the theory that they still couldn't move until they were completed by the Presence, Mehken found herself trying to block the clawbug's claws and tail as it tried to kill her. She managed to block one claw and the tail, but the other claw clamped down on her leg, and she cried out in pain. Drassia heard her and distracted the clawbug with a bolt of flame. It let go of Mehken's leg and ran at Drassia. It tried to sting her, but the acid finally got to a vital organ, and its tail bounced harmlessly off Drassia's armor as it died.

The second clawbug, which had gotten some power flow to it while Drassia and Mehken were trying to kill the first, finally got completed and leaped off its platform a scant second before the acid killed it. Drassia looked at the remaining two. They were decomposing faster than the Presence would be able to complete them. Drassia healed Mehken's leg and turned away from the clawbugs, looking for a way to unlock the other control center. There was a door in the south wall of the spawning laboratory, and Drassia went through it, hoping to find something. She did; there was a lever by a sign on the wall that said "Control Center Lock Override." She pulled it and went back out of the spawning laboratory.

Drassia and Mehken went east, finding more easy prey. It was a surprisingly short walk to the northeast control center, but when they got there, they found that four fyoras and an artila were guarding the door. A few thorns sufficed to kill them before they could do any damage. As Drassia got closer to the door, she found that her mind was starting to get cloudier again. The Presence was here. The door opened slightly, just as the two doors before it had. Drassia stepped through, and the door closed behind her.

Drassia looked around. It was a large hall; Drassia wouldn't have been surprised if it were used for meetings. Several Shaping platforms were at the north end. The only other being that Drassia could see in the hall was a servant mind. She wondered where the Presence was — and then she saw the glowing mist around the mind.

This was not good. Servant minds were immobile and loyal creatures, but very intelligent and, more importantly, powerful. If the Presence had managed to take one over, as it had, it would be able to do catastrophic damage to the Foundry, but Drassia cared less about that and more about how much damage it could use a servant mind's body to do toher.

The servant mind looked at Drassia and said, in a raspy voice, "Intruder. Please. Destroy me."

Then the Presence took it over and threw up a shield, rendering itself effectively invincible for the time being, and created several worms on the platforms to the north. The battle had begun.

When Drassia had learned how to spray acid from Sage Fefer, she had also learned how to create energy shields like the one the Presence was using. She couldn't make someone invincible, like the Presence apparently could, but she could lessen the damage one took, and she could do it in a way that didn't require her concentration to maintain, only to create. She made such shields for herself and Mehken and blessed the two of them. The worms rushed at them, and Drassia drew her sword and joined Mehken in slicing them to ribbons. Drassia thought something wasn't quite right about that; these worms were no tougher than those she'd killed in the pacification fields, but she would have been very surprised if this was all the Presence could summon if it controlled a servant mind, as it did now. Then again, the mind seemed to be resisting from within; perhaps it was keeping the Presence from making more powerful creations.

As the last of the worms died, the servant mind, its body twitching from the mental struggle going on inside it, got control of its mouth again. "Trying... trying to break free. Will not be rogue." Then the Presence got control again, and more worms took form on the Shaping platforms. It was no harder to kill these than it had been to kill the last set, and Drassia had to wonder why the Presence wasn't using the mind's capabilities to assault her and Mehken directly. The mind grew pale and let out an agonized screech. "No! No! NO!" The mind's eyes glazed over, and the shield around it faded. Then the Presence took control, interrupting, Drassia suspected, what the mind had intended to be its suicide. It had lost a lot of power, but it still had enough to summon up another swarm of worms.

Then Drassia realized why the Presence hadn't been attacking directly: it had been concentrating on fighting the mind and keeping the shield up. Now that it wasn't trying to keep the shield up anymore...

The Presence did something, and suddenly the blessing Drassia and Mehken had had simply evaporated. Drassia killed a pair of worms and flung a cloud of acid at the mind, as she had done with the clawbugs. The Presence retaliated by firing a bolt of energy at Mehken; it seemed to terrify her, and she ran for the door, pounding on it, vainly trying to get out. As Drassia snarled and killed another pair of worms, the Presence fired another bolt at her. She somehow knew that it wouldn't terrify her the way it had Mehken; another bit of training resurfaced, protecting her from the fear. Her newly remembered training held, but her confusion was suddenly magnified again, and she became more sluggish as she tried to fight off the worms. Now they were dodging her blade; they were coming at her face —

Mehken sliced through them like paper, apparently having recovered from her terror. Drassia found herself lying on the floor and struggled to get off before the Presence could do anything else; Mehken helped her up, and they turned to look at the mind. The acid had sunk into its body, though slower than it had with the clawbugs, and the Presence was trying to flee as it had fled the fyora. The mind said quietly, "Thank you. Am free. Am in control. Am loyal. Can... end. Invader dies... with me." Then it closed its eyes.

The Presence didn't quite die, but, as before, the stream of mist was cut off before it got completely out of the mind's body. It fled to the east again. Drassia watched, too tired to do anything else, as the servant mind's body deteriorated into its component essence. She had banished the Presence from another part of the Foundry Core, and would hunt it further the next day.

 


	5. The Central Core

Drassia and Mehken entered the central Foundry core from the west. It was quieter here; Mehken could no longer hear the shrieks and hisses of the rogues. Of course, that didn’t mean that they weren’t there; it just meant that they were hunting silently. Mehken had never been to this section of the core, and she knew for a fact that Drassia hadn’t either. She could see that the floor here was less worn with the passing of people and creations. She could also see that Drassia was being affected by the power here. She seemed dizzier and less focused. Mehken could sense the power, too, though she wasn’t going to say anything about it — admitting that she had such abilities where the wrong person could hear might get her imprisoned, tortured, and killed.

Mehken had seen the way Drassia’s face had almost literally lit up when she’d used the canister in the Eastern core. She knew that the canisters were dangerously addictive, having seen several people become dependent on them in order to function normally. She had also seen what had happened when one of those addicts had been deprived of his fix. She estimated the total casualty count to have been around fifty people, most of them innocent civilians who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The addict had finally been brought down by a Shaper who had been passing through the town where the incident occurred. Mehken wanted to see Drassia join the rebels, but she did not want to see her become that way.

Drassia pulled the scrying crystal out of her pocket, and Mehken saw that it was glowing. Drassia said, slurring her speech more than she had since that first day, “The Presence is here. Maybe now we can finally kill it.”

Mehken followed Drassia farther into the core until they saw a corridor going north, with an obelisk in front that said:

SECRET AREA

No entry without permission of the Councilor.

Mehken said, “Perhaps we should explore elsewhere first. The obelisk —”

Drassia interrupted her. “Rawal was the one who said we could follow the Presence wherever it went.” She pulled the scrying stone out of her pocket again; sure enough, it was glowing more brightly than it had at the entrance. “And it looks like it went that way.” She walked into the corridor, leaving Mehken no choice but to follow.

There were turrets lining the hall, fleshy, immobile fungi that fired thorns at intruders. These turrets looked unhealthy, their outer skins dry and cracked. Mehken guessed that the Presence had affected them. She looked nervously down their path. “The turrets are weak, though maybe not for long. We can probably destroy them or run past. Very quickly, anyway. You decide, I will follow.”

Drassia didn’t say anything, simply walking forward.  As she was getting within range of the first turret, she spread her arms in a way that was oddly reminiscent of someone giving a speech, though she said nothing. Mehken could feel the edge of what the human woman was doing to the turrets. Her training allowed her to resist it, but Drassia’s influence was strong. Mehken looked at Drassia nervously. If the woman could do that even while under the influence of the fog pervading her mind, with the Presence making it worse to boot, then she would be a valuable asset for whomever she pledged her allegiance to, whether or not she recovered from her mental affliction. Mehken hoped that she could turn Drassia to ally with the rebels instead of the Shapers.

The two women continued down the passage, which curved to the left. There was a door in the west wall that looked like it was controlled by a lever next to it; the passage continued to the south. Drassia approached the lever, but Mehken could tell something was wrong; the addled woman was looking more and more confused as she looked at the lever’s locking mechanism. Finally, Drassia pulled her gaze away from the lever and stumbled down the passage to the south. Mehken hoped she was looking for a key.

A few feet farther down, a few rogues wandered: three fyoras and two artila. Mehken could feel Drassia’s blessing spell being cast on her as she rushed one of the artila, hoping that Drassia would retain enough presence of mind to kill the other one before it could do any damage. Mehken chopped her artila roughly in half, hearing the meaty thwack of the other one being hit by a thorn. The three fyoras all breathed fire at Mehken; she ducked, causing the fireballs to sail over her head, and attacked. Two fyoras went down to one wide slash of her dagger; the other died with two of Drassia’s thorns in its chest.

Mehken looked at Drassia, seeing the other woman’s gaze wander over the room and settle on a human’s body. There were long robes on the body that lacked the symbol of the Shapers, marking this poor unfortunate as a sage or assistant who hadn’t been able to escape when the Presence had made all the creations go rogue. Drassia rummaged through the pouches on the body’s belt and found a key in one of them. Barely even acknowledging Mehken, she turned and walked back to the door that had stopped them.

Drassia, again looking very confused, took the key out of her pocket, inserted it in the lever’s lock, turned it, and pulled the lever. The door slid down. She calmly walked through the door, looking only slightly as if she knew something was wrong, but couldn’t quite put her finger on what. Mehken had no choice but to follow the nearly-incapacitated woman through the door into the lair of the Presence.

The Presence had, this time, inhabited a young servile holding a sword. Mehken recognized the body that the Presence had made its puppet. She murmured to Drassia, hoping that the other woman could focus on her voice, “I know that servile. His name is Troa. Was. He is lost now. There is no hope for him.”

The Presence made the servile speak, its voice harsh and raspy. “You... wound... me. You chase me. I take your... mind.

“I kill you.”

It held its hands out wide, sparks flying from them. The Presence advanced on the helpless Drassia. Mehken leaped in front of the thing that had once been her friend and swung at it with her sword.

It bounced. There was some sort of shield around the Presence. A thorn flew past Mehken, hitting Troa with the same result. Mehken looked back at Drassia, who was looking around with a confused expression on her face. Then she started going south with a dazed look on her face.

Mehken turned back to the Presence just as it unleashed a spray of energy at her, leaving her with a feeling exactly the opposite of that she got when Drassia blessed her. Mehken gasped and looked back to the south where Drassia was going. The human woman was still walking. Mehken knew something was going on there, but didn’t know just what, thinking only of distracting the Presence. She spun back around just as the Presence did something it had done to her once before, when it was in the servant mind.

Mehken was overcome by fear. She whimpered and turned, running away from the Presence, tripping, falling, scrabbling to get up again. She ran blindly into a wall, turning and pressing her back against it just as she heard Drassia start screaming. The Presence came closer to Mehken, hissing, “You... hear that? She is... dying. So will you, soon.” It stabbed at her, tearing the cloth of her sleeve and nicking Mehken’s arm. She whimpered again, trying to overcome the fear. She swung her sword blindly, doing anything to stave off the inevitable for a few more short seconds as she heard Drassia’s screaming abruptly stop. The Presence said, “She dies... so... easily, in... the end. As you will.” It brought its sword above its head, preparing for a killing blow to Mehken —

— and screamed as its shield disappeared with an audible pop, allowing Drassia to fire three thorns into its arm.

Mehken looked in surprise at Drassia. The changes wrought in her were immediately obvious: she stood taller, she looked stronger, she appeared more confident, but most striking was the light of intelligence that shone in her eyes. Mehken looked past Drassia to the room she’d walked into, seeing a pool that glowed with a sickly light —

Ah.

That explained it.

Even though Mehken had never used one (if she had, she would have instantly been spotted as a rebel when she came to the Foundry), she knew what the pool was: a Geneforge. It was like a more powerful version of a canister, but it usually provided the first augmentation a prospective lifecrafter ever got. It extensively reworked a person’s being, making them stronger, faster, better... smarter. This one seemed to have erased Drassia’s imperfections, making her able to think again. Mehken decided to wonder why Rawal had created a Geneforge later, instead focusing on killing the Presence.

She got up and lunged at the Presence, no longer swinging and stabbing blindly like the amateur she’d had to pretend to be, but using her sword the way it was meant to be used. She made a lightning strike under the Presence’s guard, leaping nimbly out of the way as Drassia flung a spray of acid at the thing, then attacking again. The Presence jumped out of the way and spoke again, directly to Drassia. “Give... up. Give up to me. I must stay. I can go no more. I must stay here.”

“Where did you come from?” asked Drassia. Her words were no longer slurred; she spoke like no lady, but she at least sounded intelligent now.

“Was... made. Made by creation. Was spirit, taken from air and filled with power. Great creation made me. Great food.” It made sense that a creation would have made the Presence; no Shaper would ever have dared to create such a monstrosity. “My maker. Commanded me. I hungered.”

“What did you do?” asked Drassia.

“Took its mind. Great mind. Mighty mind. Was not ready. Not defended. I devoured it. Left. Floated. Looked for minds. Wandered.”

“And you came here.”

“Many creations. Many minds. Much food. Went so far. So hungry. Stay here. Never go. Always feed.” The Presence looked like it was about to continue, but Drassia cut it off.

“No. I will kill this body like I did your last two, and you will die with it.” Without waiting for a response, Drassia lunged at the Presence, switching her thorn baton for a sword. She made fast, powerful strikes that the Presence barely blocked, one from the side, another from the top, a third from the bottom, contemptuously disarming the Presence with a fourth. The Presence fell to its knees as Drassia said, “You should have stayed where you came from,” and beheaded it.

The mist of the Presence appeared around the servile, but this time it had no strength to escape. Mehken watched as it went one way, then another, finally breaking apart and dissipating. The Presence was finally dead.

Mehken knelt by Troa’s body and whispered a prayer, afterwards rising and looking at Drassia. “Thank you. That creature was a pure horror. For destroying it, you have my gratitude.” Drassia simply nodded and turned to walk away. Mehken followed.

As they were walking, Mehken stared at Drassia in fascination and worry. Drassia noticed and asked, “What is it?”

“You are changed. That Geneforge changed you. Cured you. Your mind has been cleared. I see it in your eyes. But now you will go back to Rawal, and your true battle will begin.”

“My true battle?” Drassia asked.

“Rawal wants you to be his tool. He will send you out into the world to fight for him and do his bidding. He will control you with the thing in your chest.” Mehken stopped and turned to face Drassia. “I think you will not live with that for long. You will forge your own path. But what path will that be?” Mehken tried to make it sound like a rhetorical question, but Drassia didn’t look fooled. She answered anyway.

“I think I’ll try to contact the rebels. If Rawal is any indication, the Shapers are concerned with little more than their own power and influence. It seems to me that the rebels are fighting for what is just.”

Mehken nodded. “There are servile colonies in Mera, the next province to the south. Go there, and you will find knowledge and wisdom.” She started walking again.

She could feel Drassia’s eyes on the back of her neck, wondering just how she knew so much about those places, but Drassia stayed silent. Together, they walked away from the Foundry Core and back to Isenwood’s Spire.

 

* * *

 

Rawal sat in his throne at the top of Isenwood’s Spire, doing some rough calculations in his head of just how much the Presence had cost him. He’d had to pay around seventy Shapers, some of them very well-known and respected ones, sums of money ranging from only a few hundred coins to nearly a hundred thousand to make up for the losses of their creations. He believed that the average was around fourteen thousand, which added up to almost a million coins that he could have used for enlarging the Foundry or for some of his less legal pursuits. And that, of course, was very little compared to the reputation and influence that he’d lost: the fact that he’d been losing creations that, by rights, should have been perfectly safe in his care was making people think twice about relying on him for anything, which meant that he had had to call in several favors in order to get resources vital to his various projects. It was little less than a waking nightmare for him.

On the plus side, though, he had heard good things about his new servant Drassia: how she had driven the Presence out of the Eastern and Western Cores, though he had to admit that he would have preferred her to have made less of a mess in the process. Of course, the mess she was making was much more easily cleaned up than the mess the Presence was making; she was merely leaving dead creations where the Presence had left insane creations and dead humans. If she could do this, he would have to give her some jobs that would require stealth, in order to see how well she performed at that. He would also have to give her tasks requiring her to do what she was proving to be very good at: indiscriminately killing things.

As he thought, Rawal heard footsteps approaching. Not bothering to look at their owners, he asked, “What is it?”

“The Presence is dead.”

That got Rawal’s attention. He looked down at Drassia, seeing the changes in her face. He leaned forward. “Do tell.”

Drassia did, beginning in the Eastern Core. Rawal noted the calm and authority in her voice and the newfound clarity of her speech. He even saw how she could be considered attractive by some, now that she was no longer impaired. Her telling him of her use of the Geneforge was unnecessary, as he knew only one thing could have wrought the changes he could see and hear. When she was finished, he nodded. “You have done me a great service. I imagine that the death of the Presence will make things much easier, including, perhaps, regaining control of a few rogues. You have changed as well; if not for the control tool in your chest —” Rawal saw something unpleasant flicker across Drassia’s face at this “— I might be worried. As it is, I will reward you with a lesson. You will need to know how to perform better acts of Shaping if you are to serve me.” He stood and approached Drassia, looking her directly in the eye, and began to say chants for molding essence, teaching her how to cast a pair of spells and Shape a roamer. He could see her remembering that she had learned them before, and she even said some of the last parts with him. When he was done, he sat back down in his throne. “Go rest. Come back tomorrow so that I can give you your next task.”

Drassia nodded and turned around to leave, Mehken following her. Rawal watched her go, thinking of how best to use her in the next province to the south: the Mera-Tev, home to Councilor Astoria.

 


	6. The Journey to Mera

The next morning, Drassia and Mehken entered Rawal’s throne room. Rawal appeared lost in thought as he sat on his throne. Drassia said, “I would like to know what my next task is.”

Rawal said, “Well then, I have good news for you: I am sending you out of the Whitespires. You can finally leave these miserable, frigid mountains behind you, at least for a while. I am sending you to the Mera-Tev. Those lands are ruled by Agent Astoria, a weak excuse for a Shaper who wants to make peace with the rebels.” The distaste in Rawal’s voice was evident; Drassia did her best to keep her face impassive and expressionless. “There is, I believe, a hidden route through her lands called the Shadow Road, used by rogues to get from Shaper lands to rebel territory. It is a series of tunnels through old, abandoned mines and laboratories. Your task is to find the western and eastern entrances and tell me where they are. Go only as far in as you must to be confident that you have, in fact, found the right places; beyond that, the rebel defenses are likely to be considerable. This information will be very useful in embarrassing Councilor Astoria.” He removed a scroll from his robes and handed it to Drassia. “These are papers that will allow you to go through the pass out of the Whitespires. They say you are a Shaper prospective; I bent the truth a little there. They will allow you to go anywhere in central Terrestia.”

“Astoria aids the rebels?” Drassia asked, slightly perplexed.

“No. She ignores them when it suits her purposes. Less of a crime, but just as harmful to the Shapers.”

“Where are the entrances to the Shadow Road?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have to send you to find out, now would I?” Rawal leaned forward. “My only advice to you is that such a place is likely to be guarded by creations. Probably serviles. Probably a lot of them. Show some initiative and go be my spy.”

Drassia nodded and left the throne room, glad that she could go somewhere a little more pleasant and, more importantly, somewhere that she wouldn’t have to be under Rawal’s watchful eye the whole time. She was looking forward to seeing some of what the rebels did in person.

 

* * *

 

Drassia and Mehken left Minallah to the south. As they descended, Drassia found herself being disoriented by the lack of frigid wind biting at her face and of snow crunching underfoot. As a light drizzle started to fall, she was surprised to discover that water could fall from the sky in liquid form. She could see a long way to the south. The pass cut through the mountains, making it a good chokepoint to restrict travel into and out of the Whitespires. Drassia had no doubt that someone determined could cross without going through here, but she also had no doubt that it would be an unpleasant journey. She could see a wall blocking her path perhaps a mile to the south. She reached into her pocket to ensure that her papers of passage were still there, knowing that a battle at the gate would not be in her best interests, for a variety of reasons. Closer to her on the path, though, she could see a minefield. Getting closer, she could see that the sensor antennae on the mine trigger weren’t swiveling around. The mines were inactive; she could pass safely.

Drassia and Mehken came to a point where a new road split off to the west. A sign at the crossroads said:

Minallah – North

The Mera-Tev – South

The White Pass Inn – West

It was still morning, so Drassia didn’t head for the inn; she was in need of neither food nor rest. She did, however, note its position in case she had to sleep and was in the area again. She continued south towards the gate, only to discover that Mehken was no longer following her, but rather standing in the road, looking unhappy. “What’s wrong?” Drassia asked.

Mehken said simply, “It is time for me to leave you, Lifecrafter.”

“Lifecrafter?”

“That is what we call one who is not a Shaper but has the powers of one. You got your powers from canisters, perhaps from a Geneforge. They were Shaped into you. But how you got those powers, where you came from, what you’ve done in the past, those things don’t matter. Where you go now is what matters.”

“Where are you going?” asked Drassia.

“I am returning to my people with the information I have learned. You will have to go learn about the world on your own. Relearn, I mean. I wish I could guide you in this process, but I am returning at last to the arms of the rebellion.” Mehken had dropped all pretense of speaking like a servile brought up under Shaper rule.

“How will you get to rebel lands?”

“I have certain capabilities. I was changed enough by the rebels that I could escape if needed, though not so much that I would be detected. Now I am free to use those abilities.”

“Is there no way I can get you to stay with me?” Drassia asked.

“No. I must go and report what I have learned. And I am desperate to be back with my own kind, even if only for a short time. I wish I could stay with you, encourage the signs you have shown of being willing to fight for the rebels. I cannot.”

“Farewell then.”

Mehken nodded. “One thing before I go. Your path is not fixed. The Shapers may be doomed and immoral, but they will try to drag you down with them. They will offer you bribes, wealth, power. Resist them. Remember what is right.”

“I will,” replied Drassia.

“I will pass that message on to the drakons. If you mean what you say, we may be able to help you. In the meantime, help Councilor Astoria if you can. She is wise for a Shaper.

“Until we meet again.” It seemed to Drassia that Mehken disappeared within the span of an eyeblink, leaving her alone on the path.

Drassia looked in the direction that she assumed Mehken had gone, realizing that it would be a good idea to have a companion, someone to stand by her in battle… no. Something. A creation that would never betray her, never leave her, that would be loyal to her until its dying breath. She looked down at her hands, remembering how she had created the fyora on the first day of her awakening. She raised her hands and began to Shape another one, this one devoid of the flaws her first had had. She Shaped into it extra muscle, extra toughness, extra speed. When it was finished, it stood before her on the path, looking at her, waiting for her to give it a command. She took pride in her work, but thought it was missing something: a name. She laid a hand on its head and told it, “Your name is Spitfire.”

 

* * *

 

The camp at the base of the wall separating the Whitespires and the Mera-Tev was presided over by an officious man who walked around barking orders at everyone in sight, raising his visor and combing his mustache when he thought nobody was looking. When he saw Drassia and the newly created Spitfire, he looked pleased: now he would actually have something to do for a moment. He walked up to Drassia, made a mark on his scroll, and said, “Sergeant Noblet. Whitespires gate. Access to the Mera-Tev is restricted.” He held out a hand. “Papers please.”

Drassia wordlessly gave her papers to Noblet. He read them. Then he read them again. He held them up to the light and read them a third time. Finally, he gave them back to Drassia and said, “Fakes, most likely. I just can’t find the flaw that I’m sure is there. I have no choice but to unlock the gate for you.”

“Thank you,” Drassia said, adding under her breath, “for wasting my time, you vain, pompous fool.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” asked Noblet, looking offended. “It sounded like —”

Drassia put on an obviously fake smile and said, “It was nothing I couldn’t have said to your face if I’d wanted to.” She patted his cheek (perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary) and walked past him, ignoring the look of shock on his face. A soldier who had seen and heard the whole exchange grinned and gave her a thumbs up as she passed. Drassia smiled as she passed through the gates and into the Mera-Tev.

 

* * *

 

As Drassia and Spitfire continued south, Drassia decided it might be a good idea to create another companion. She stopped and created a roamer, named it Fang, and kept going.

She reached a crossroads with a servile standing there. He looked less like a rebel and more like a bandit: filthy and feral, with a thorn baton in his hand and a horn hanging around his neck. He pointed the baton at Drassia’s chest and snarled, “Koski say stop! Koski take pay from all who pass. No pay and Koski call many rogue on you.” He eyed Drassia’s weapons and creations and decided it would be a bad idea to charge her too much. “You pay five coin and you go. No pay and many rogue on you.”

Drassia said, “I’m not giving you any money, you worthless, thieving clod.”

Koski seemed to be too stupid to register that he had just been insulted, merely checking to see if his baton was loaded and, seeing that it was, raising it and firing. Drassia caught the thorn on her shield, retaliating with a thorn of her own. Hers hit its mark, leaving a long, bloody scratch on Koski’s arm.

Koski looked at it. Then he raised his horn to his lips and blew a single, short note.

Three thahds came out of the underbrush behind Koski, bellowing and charging Drassia. She sprayed some acid at Koski, drew her sword, and stabbed one thahd through the heart as Fang and Spitfire double-teamed another one, Spitfire spitting fire to distract it and Fang leaping up to savage its throat. The third threw a punch at Drassia, hitting her on the jaw. She shook it off and barely dodged its next strike, letting it go past her and beheading it. She spun back to face Koski, who had been backed up against a tree by Spitfire and Fang. Koski looked like he was in pain from the acid and seemed to have realized that Drassia would kill him. “You kill Koski? Koski can kill too. Koski not die alone.” He blew on the horn again, this time a long, low note.

Five more thahds burst out of the woods, and Drassia realized that she couldn’t take this many all at once, so she used one of the first spells Rawal had reawakened in her: Daze. It worked on three of the thahds, which froze, barely even breathing. The other two, however, kept right on coming. One charged Drassia, throwing a punch at her; she caught it on her shield and stabbed the thahd in the stomach, twisting the blade before she pulled it out. The other went for Spitfire, which nimbly leaped out of the way and let Fang spit poison at the thahd. The thahd roared in pain, but was cut off when Spitfire roasted its face, leaving three thahds that were starting to stir again. Before they could regain full alertness, Drassia, Spitfire, and Fang each went for the throat of a different one, killing them all.

Drassia turned back to face Koski, who was now writhing in pain from the acid. She said, “You will never rob another soul,” and beheaded him. She bent down and picked up his baton, which appeared to fire venom thorns, and looked at the sign in the crossroads. Seeing that Mera was to the east, she went that way with her creations following her.

As they got closer to the city gates, Drassia saw a patrol of soldiers outside. She thought that they were oddly close to the city walls, but then again, what did she know? The soldiers noticed her and approached her. The ranking soldier said, “I’m Sergeant Tasha of Mera. You are a stranger here, maybe a spy. I’ll need to see some papers of transit, or you’re going to have a problem.”

Drassia showed her papers to Sergeant Tasha, who inspected them. “From Shaper Rawal, eh? Another reason not to trust you.” She handed the papers back. “They’re signed by a Councilor, so I won’t risk turning you away, but I’ll make sure the city guards watch you closely.” Tasha walked off, the rest of the patrol following her.

Drassia looked after them, wondering why they were keeping so close to the city walls. It seemed to her that the presence of a bandit so close to the gates should have garnered at least some attention, but apparently not. She put those thoughts from her mind and walked through the gates into Mera.


	7. Mera

Drassia and her creations entered Mera, the capital of the Mera-Tev. The Mera-Tev had been conquered by the Shapers about three centuries before, but Mera looked like it had been built well before that. Drassia could see that though the Shapers had built their own buildings, there were some that had been built in a style of architecture different from most Shaper work, and there were a few odd insignias and signs in an unfamiliar language. Drassia looked around, trying to see if she recognized the streets or buildings. She didn’t, which made her think that she had never been here before.

Mera was a crowded city, with street vendors hawking their wares and creations roaming the streets alongside citizens and refugees. Yet, for all that, it was oddly quiet. Not that the people were tired or lethargic — they were whispering to each other about something. It was tough for Drassia to hear any of the gossip, but she was able to piece together what everyone was talking about: Agent Astoria, member of the Shaper Council and very much disputed ruler of the Mera-Tev. Drassia was able to glean that the Councilor was in the city, but also a little bit about her: she was trying to make peace with the rebels. Drassia could hear some people saying that Ghaldring, the drakon leader of the rebellion, would never accept anything less than the complete and unconditional surrender of the Shapers; some wrote Astoria’s attempts at peace off as futile because of this, while others simply exchanged significant glances with each other. Drassia could also hear vague rumors of attempts on the Councilor’s life, though most people were dismissing these as mere rubbish.

Drassia was tired. It had taken her most of the day to descend from the Whitespires, and the sun was setting in the west. She went in search of lodgings and food, finding a place imaginatively called the Mera Inn in the north side of the city. She left her creations in a stable on one side of the inn and walked into the common room, noting that it was very full. The innkeeper was a large, graying woman who was working hard to keep food coming to the caravan guards and refugees. When she got around to serving Drassia, she said, “I’m Clerissa. What do you want? Make it quick.”

“Do you have any rooms?” asked Drassia.

“All full, even the common room. I’m getting flooded with refugees. They come in, spend a lot of money on lodgings while they look for work, don’t find any and have to leave, hopefully before they give all their money to me. So sorry, but no, I don’t. Try again tomorrow.”

Drassia swore under her breath, but said, “In that case, can I have a steak?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind waiting fifteen minutes. It’ll be ten coins.”

Drassia gave her the money and sat down at a miraculously empty table as she waited for the food. People looking for a table took one look at her and found somewhere else to sit; Drassia could only guess that the reason was that she looked like a mercenary and not like friendly company. A few minutes after she got her food, Drassia noticed another woman, this one also looking like a mercenary, approaching her, but before she could get there, the common room suddenly got very quiet. Drassia’s eyes followed the stares to the door, where she saw a female sergeant in the city guard flanked by two war tralls. The sergeant looked over the common room, her gaze stopping directly on Drassia. The sergeant pointed at her and said, “You there. Step outside.”

Deciding it was better not to make more of a scene (and wondering what she could possibly have done wrong), Drassia got up and followed the sergeant outside, closing the door when she got there. The sergeant said, “I am Sergeant Schick of the city guard, and you are Drassia, yes?”

“Yes, I am. What’s this about?” Drassia asked.

“I have a message for you. Councilor Astoria wishes to see you immediately. I would not delay in following this order; disobeying the command of a Councilor is a dangerous thing.”

Don’t I know it, Drassia thought, remembering the control tool in her chest. Aloud, she asked, “Where can I find Councilor Astoria?”

Schick pointed to a stone spire to the northeast. “She is in Haria-Kel, fortress first of the people of these woods, then of the Shapers.”

“How did she know I was here?”

“I don’t know, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. I will say that all the members of the Council spy on each other. I’ve heard that you come from Rawal’s mountains.” Schick made the name almost a curse. “That means I will be keeping a very close eye on you.”

Drassia muttered under her breath, “You and everyone else here.” Schick ignored her.

“Now if you’re not going to waste any more of my time, I have a patrol to return to. We are still at war with the rebels, whatever some people say.” Schick glared at Drassia before turning and walking away. Drassia simply stared after her, realizing that perhaps word of what she said had gotten around. Making a mental note to be a little more careful of what she said, and to whom, she gathered her creations and headed to Haria-Kel.

 

* * *

 

Haria-Kel, like Isenwood’s Spire, was an underground complex where Shapers could work without being interrupted by nosy outsiders. There were differences; the stone walls of Haria-Kel were worn smooth by time, as the fortress predated the Shapers by centuries, perhaps millennia, and there were small plots of land where fungi freshened the air. A pair of crystal power conduits looped around the complex, supplying power to the Shapers that needed it for their experiments and keeping the air oppressively hot. Drassia felt the power of the Shapers very strongly in this place.

Drassia got directions from a guard to find Councilor Astoria to the northeast. She went, finding a huge hall filled with machinery, crystal spires, and other tools of the Shapers. The air was hotter here than in most of the complex, and the fungi in the room had to exert themselves to keep the air fresh.

Though the guards seemed about to drop, and even Drassia had beads of sweat forming on her forehead, the Agent in the center of the room seemed completely unaffected, not even sweating as she reclined in her throne. She smiled calmly at the sight of Drassia. “You there. Rawal’s creature, from the Whitespires. Step forward; I am eager to meet you.”

Drassia quashed the sudden and inexplicable anger she felt at being called a “creature” and complied, walking forward as the man whom Astoria had seemed about to speak with huffed angrily and sat back down on a bench. Astoria ignored him entirely, inspecting Drassia like an interesting lab specimen. She nodded. “Very interesting. Very intriguing. I can see why Shaper Rawal set you aside. I am Astoria, Agent and full member of the Shaper Council. You have shown courage coming here, leaving the protection of your master.” She leaned back in her throne and smiled. “Of course, now that you’re here, you don’t have to serve him. Shaper Rawal is far away. He can’t command you here. At this point, competent servants who know the secrets of other members of the Council are very much in demand.”

Drassia was dimly aware of the other supplicant in the room fidgeting anxiously as she asked, “You knew that I was coming?”

“The Shapers of the Council watch each other very closely. Only rarely does a member of the Council send a... what’s the polite word? Emissary? Into the lands of another. That sort of thing is noticed. Now, as for what I want from you... well, first understand that what we say here is in complete confidence. None of this will leave these walls. Now, you work for Rawal. He can pay you. I can pay you more. I...”

The man sitting off to the side suddenly jumped to his feet and barked, “Enough!”

Drassia and Astoria both turned to face him. Drassia could hardly believe it; angering a Shaper could very often be a one-way trip to a prison cell, the front lines of the war, or, worst of all, the Shaper’s laboratory, if they were feeling particularly cruel. The man walked forward boldly, his stride quick and confident, though he looked frail and old. Astoria looked irritated. “You dare to interrupt me, Baston? I will hear Sharissa’s message soon enough. The business of the Nodye Coast can wait for...”

Baston wordlessly took a glowing orb from his robes. Silence fell upon the room. Everyone looked at the orb: the guards, the creations, Drassia, Astoria. Astoria seemed to recognize the orb instantly. Then Baston threw the orb at the floor.

It shattered and split into thousands of fragments. Mist rose from them; Drassia smelled the vinegar scent of essence. The mist resolved into two clawbugs and two vlish. Baston snarled, “Traitor! Traitor to the Shaper cause! Betrayer of us all! Now you die!!”

The guards rushed Baston. Astoria smiled calmly and made a motion with her hand. The devices on either side of her began to hum and glow. Baston fired a bolt of energy at Astoria that barely even singed her when it hit. Astoria made another motion with her hand, and fire rushed from her fingertips to scorch Baston and his creations. The devices continued to charge as Drassia sent a little fire of her own at one of the clawbugs. Suddenly, the devices next to Astoria discharged their energy, sending bolts of lightning to roast the would-be assassin and his creations. Baston dropped to the floor, dead.

Astoria walked over to him and nudged his body with her toe. She knelt and took something from around his neck. Then she returned to her throne. She turned to Drassia and said, “Events are moving quickly, faster than I thought they would. You work for Rawal. I suspect you are not happy with this state of affairs. There is a way out for you, but little time. If you want hope of freedom from that worm in the mountains, speak to me.” She was still smiling, but Drassia recognized it as a false front. She was shaken by the attempt to kill her in her own throne room.

As serviles came in to clean up the mess and the bodies, Astoria said to Drassia, “Now, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, if I am going to allow you to wander in my lands, then I will need something from you in return. A consideration between Council members. And after this attack, I know what I will require.

“Someone has been trying to kill me. This was not the first attempt, though it was the most serious. Keeping it quiet and investigating cautiously is no longer enough; I will need someone to investigate more thoroughly, and I choose you. You are going to find the one who plots against me. Anyone who tries to kill a Council member must die.”

“Why are you choosing me?” Drassia asked.

“Three reasons. First, you are available. Second, if your actions in the Foundry are any indication, you are both brave and intelligent. Third, I believe that an agent of Rawal’s, though not ideal, will at least not try to kill me. Rawal has more use for me alive than dead.”

“You hardly know me.”

“And you hardly know me,” Astoria replied. “That is one of the reasons I will trust you for a while. Many people hate me. You do not. Not yet, at least.” She leaned forward. “I know you are wondering why you should help me. I will tell you this: I know that Shaper Rawal did not send you here without a mission. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t need to, but if you do not help me, I will make sure that you can neither complete it nor pass beyond the Mera-Tev.” Drassia knew it was probably her imagination, but she could almost feel the control tool in her chest twitch in anxiety. “At this point, while Rawal and I dislike each other, we are not sworn enemies. He will not punish you for keeping me alive.

“The failed assassin said that his name was Baston and that he came from the Nodye Coast. I now doubt that any of this was true. The guest rooms are to the south. I will have Baston’s unlocked so that you can search it for any hint of his true identity. Go quickly, in case he had allies that will destroy the evidence.”

Drassia nodded, turned around, and went to the guest rooms, finding a guard unlocking one of them. The guard said, “This is Baston’s room. You have permission to enter.” Drassia thought that a bit unnecessary, given that she had gotten that permission less than a minute before, but gave no comment, simply walking in. The room had a bed, a cabinet, a brazier, and a ceramic urn. Drassia searched the cabinet first and found nothing that would give her any information. Next she searched the urn, finding that it was full of the ashes from papers that had been incinerated in the brazier. Only one thing remained: a scrap that had been incompletely burned. All Drassia could make out was: “... can escape easily in the fire and confusion. Flee to the Murkwood and we will contact you and spirit...”

Drassia took the scrap and went back to Astoria. “I found this in Baston’s room.” She gave the paper to Astoria, who took it between thumb and forefinger to read it.

“This is a bit of luck, though not a huge one. The Murkwood is west of here. It is not small. Tomorrow I will give you another task, though I would advise speaking to my Shapers before then. I will instruct them to train you... within reason. In the meantime, I have heard that there are no rooms in the city, and Rawal will be less than happy with me if I mistreat his emissary. Since there is a newly open room in Haria-Kel, you may stay there. Your creations can be fed and housed at the south end of Haria-Kel.” Astoria waved her hand in a motion of dismissal. Drassia took that as her cue to go do what she’d been wanting to do since getting to Mera: sleep.

 


	8. The Murkwood

Councilor Astoria looked relaxed as Drassia entered her throne room the next morning, but Drassia could tell that she was alert, ready to instantly defend herself if another assassin tried to take her life. Wisps of energy occasionally sparked to her hands from the pylons on either side of her. Drassia asked, “Where must I go now?”

“You should travel west to the Murkwood. It’s too big to search alone, but talking to some of the people who live there may yield some leads,” Astoria said. She took something from a pouch at her side. It was a key on a leather thong. “This is what I took off Baston’s body. Perhaps he forgot to destroy it, or maybe he actually thought he could escape.” Drassia personally thought it was the latter, but said nothing. “Take it. Go to the Murkwood and return when you have learned more.” Drassia nodded and left, heading for the Murkwood.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Drassia stopped for a rest and a snack. It was about noon, and she had been searching since she’d left Mera, but she had gained nothing useful, even though she had talked to a few people. She knew there was more forest to search, however, so after feeding Spitfire and Fang some dried meat and eating some herself, she got up and continued west.

As she went farther, she got the feeling that she was being watched. She knew this feeling probably struck everyone who traveled through that section of the woods, but that didn’t mean there was nothing to it. She loosened her sword in its sheath, preparing herself for trouble.

She thought she’d found it when she saw a depressingly common sight: a dirty bandit standing at a crossroads, ready to extort the next traveler who came by. This bandit, however, was smarter than most; when she saw Drassia and her two creations, she ran into the woods. Drassia followed her to a camp full of more bandits, sitting around cookfires and trying to ward off the cold. When they saw her, weapons were drawn. Drassia reached for her sword, ready to fight, but the woman she’d chased away from the crossroads said, “Hold there, traveler. My name is Emogene, and these are our lands. None pass through without our permission. None enter our camp without mine. We have no quarrel with you. We will let you pass free of charge. However, you will not enter here without permission.” Drassia saw hands tighten on weapons to emphasize Emogene’s point. Instead of baiting them like she normally might, though, Drassia saw an opportunity.

“I’m hunting through the Murkwood looking for information about a man named Baston,” she said.

Emogene shook her head. “I don’t know any Baston. He’s not one of mine. You’re going to have to go somewhere else for your information.” Drassia believed her that she didn’t know Baston, but she’d seen Emogene cast a nervous glance to the north. She was hiding something.

Drassia got closer and lowered her voice. “Baston tried to kill Councilor Astoria. If you’re smart, you’re going to help me.” She knew Astoria had told her to keep it quiet, but this seemed like the only way to keep the bloodshed down to a manageable level. She was rewarded by Emogene’s face going very pale.

“They tried... kill... a member of the Council? Those... I didn’t know anything about this!”

Drassia seized her chance. “About what?”

“Ten humans. They asked us if they could hide in our caves. Said they were deserters. Paid us well. We let them in and didn’t ask questions.”

“Was one of them Baston?” Drassia asked, about to give a description but finding herself cut off by Emogene.

“They were all wearing cloaks with hoods. They made sure we didn’t see them. Yes, I know it was suspicious, but they were paying us, and damn well, too. We didn’t ask any questions.” Emogene thought for a moment. “They also had three wagons, full of stuff and covered with canvas. Some of it hummed, but we didn’t ask what it was. As long as they paid, it was none of our business.”

“You will let me into these caves. Now.” Drassia’s tone brooked no argument.

Emogene stepped out of the way, probably terrified of being implicated in the attempted assassination of a member of the Shaper Council. “You can pass. Their caves are to the north. It’s a door in the cliff face. I give you my word that we didn’t have anything to do with it! Just... to the east, we have some caves of our own, with no door on them. Go there, and you’ll find yourself in trouble.” She walked off, no doubt planning her band’s departure. Drassia guessed that they would be gone within the day.

Drassia stepped into the bandit camp. The bandits, having heard their leader tell her she could pass, reluctantly sheathed their weapons. Drassia ignored them and swept past, heading for the cliff. She found a recently built door in the cliff face, made of sturdy timber and with a slightly glowing lock, probably enchanted. She could hear muffled shouting, as if someone was having an argument. She put her ear close and listened. All she could make out was “We knew he would fail. Now she’s going to hunt us all...” The rest was lost in the general noise. Drassia tried the key that Astoria had taken off Baston’s body in the lock. As she expected, it worked. She listened, but could hear no difference in the noise inside. She smiled, blessed and shielded her little group, and kicked the door open.

There were eight men in the room, all wearing hooded cloaks and standing around a table. They weren’t ordinary bandits; they were clean, not dirty and filthy, and the breastplates Drassia could see underneath looked to be relatively high-quality. Drassia sprayed acid in the face of the closest one, who fell to the ground, screaming and clawing at his face. Five of the remaining men drew swords, while the two farthest from the door raised their hands in the pose of those who were about to fight with magic. Fang and Spitfire leaped into the room after Drassia. Two of the swordsmen went after Fang and Spitfire; the other three charged Drassia. One got to her before the other two did, swinging his sword in what was doubtlessly intended to be a killing stroke. Drassia swung her shield at him, blocking his strike and knocking him off-balance, and brought her shield up to her chest to block the next one’s stab as she kicked the third in the chest, sending him stumbling back into a wall. She spun to face the two she’d blocked first, who glanced at each other and nodded. One struck in from her left; the other struck down from her right.

Drassia blocked the one on the left with her shield and caught the other’s downward strike with her sword pointing at the first one’s face. Flame rushed from the tip of her sword; Drassia did her best to ignore the man’s scream of agony as she forced the other man’s sword to the side, turning to face him and the man she’d kicked into the wall, who was coming at her again. Both swung their swords down at her at the same time; instead of blocking, Drassia rolled between them and spun quickly, using her shield to knock one to the ground as she beheaded the other. The one on the ground was easily finished by a stab to the heart.

Drassia turned to face the mages behind the table and gave them a cold look, extending her arm to point her sword at them. They exchanged worried glances; as they looked away from her, she kicked the table over, sending it crashing into them. They fell beneath it; as they tried to lift it, Drassia leaped over it, stabbing one in the throat and roasting the other’s face. She spun to face the rest of the room and found that her creations had killed the men that had tried to take them, but not without injury: Fang had a nasty-looking burn on its left flank, likely from one of the mages Drassia had killed, and Spitfire was sporting a gash on its right leg. Drassia healed them both and told them to stay where they were before rushing off in search of the ninth conspirator.

She found him in a small clearing accessible only from the caves. His robes were torn and tattered, but the symbol on his back that marked him as a Shaper was clear enough. He was pulling papers out of a box and tossing them into a fire burning in front of him. He pulled a sheaf of papers out, glanced at them, and tossed them into the fire. Then he saw Drassia. He looked unsurprised. He simply said, “I knew it would come to this. I only thought I would have more time.” Then he made a short, sharp motion with his hand. Drassia prepared herself for a fight, but none would happen; the Shaper assassin doubled over, clutching his stomach, and fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Within seconds, he was dead.

Drassia checked his body to make sure that he was indeed dead and had left no traps. After that, she checked the box, not expecting to find anything useful. To her surprise, she did; there was a letter addressed to Baston. It read:

“Baston – Yes, I will use this name when I write you. We will not regain our true names until after the traitor is dead. I hope that you survive your mission and will see that day.

“I will not lie to you. You will probably not survive the attack. Destroy the papers. Destroy the key. Die before capture. Should you survive, I will meet you at Kratoa-Kel. Once there, it should be easy to ferry you to safety.” The letter was unsigned.

Drassia pocketed the letter. It would, at least, give her something to bring back to Councilor Astoria, and it gave her a lead: Kratoa-Kel, wherever that was. She guessed that it was someplace a lot of people passed through. She turned to leave the clearing, knowing that though she had likely killed all the conspirators, it was possible that one had escaped or not been counted by Emogene, and there was probably more to the assassins’ caves that she hadn’t seen. In her search, she found a trapped hallway guarding a box with some wiry moss, Shaping equipment, acid thorns, and a gemstone in it, all of which she gladly took, but the real find was the Shaping lab. It had been mostly destroyed, though there was still a little of value; there were two power spirals that had been detonated (as almost anything Shapers made for lab use was wont to do; funny, that) and some smashed containers. Drassia thought it must have been where the crystals Baston had used had been made, which had to have taken a full Shaper (or a very skilled rebel, but given that there was a dead Shaper in the clearing, it had probably been him).

She went back to the entrance to the caves, where she had left her creations, told them to follow her, and walked back out into the bandit camp. The bandits shrank back from her, seeing the drying blood on her clothes. As she passed Emogene, she said, “If I were you, I’d be gone before nightfall.” Not waiting for a response, she kept walking, going back to Haria-Kel.

 

* * *

 

“I found a hidden camp in the Murkwood,” Drassia said to Astoria in her throne room. “I found this there.” She handed the letter to Astoria.

Astoria read it and nodded to herself. “Kratoa-Kel. The mountain fortress guarding the pass between the Mera-Tev and the Storm Plains. Run by Guardian Makar; distrustful, as all his kind are, but a good man. He won’t hinder you. You’re doing well.” She waved a hand, and a guard brought Drassia a pouch of coins. “It makes my decision to give you another task an easy one.

“Your new mission is to go south to Kratoa-Kel. Find Guardian Makar, tell him what happened, and ask him if Baston came through. Learn all you can about the assassin. I’ll send word ahead, so that he knows to expect you.”

“How can I get there?” asked Drassia.

“It’s almost directly to the south. If you want to take the direct route, you will have to fight rogues; if you don’t, you will have to get past traps and minefields. The choice is yours. Either way, though, you have earned a rest. Train. Sleep. Tomorrow you travel south to Kratoa-Kel.”

 


	9. Kaz

It was midmorning by the time Drassia saw the sign. It had a human skull at its base and said:

KAZ

SERVILE SETTLEMENT

THOSE INTERFERING WITH US WILL BE DEALT WITH

It stood at the entrance to a small settlement, built mainly of wood and without a human in sight. As the sign proclaimed, Kaz seemed to be populated entirely by serviles; some worked the fields, while others stood guard with blades prominently displayed. They did not look happy to see Drassia. In fact, they looked openly hostile to her. She was sure that if she made even the slightest misstep (and by that, she meant was caught making it), they would turn on her, one and all. She may have been able to take three men singlehandedly, but there were a lot more than three armed serviles here.

It seemed rather extreme to Drassia. She knew that the Shapers had been loosening some of their rules on what was allowed and what wasn’t (proof positive was the fact that she, an illegally Shaped probable former rebel, was even alive), but an entire settlement of serviles, allowed to live and guard themselves, without even the pretense of human supervision? Drassia thought that the Shapers must be more desperate than they let on. Then she remembered what Mehken had said just before leaving her north of the wall in the Whitespires Pass: “In the meantime, help Councilor Astoria if you can. She is wise for a Shaper.” Perhaps this was what Mehken had been referring to? Had Astoria decided to conduct an experiment that could also make the rebels like her more? Drassia thought it entirely possible that that sentiment, plus a healthy measure of desperation, had been the reason for Kaz.

Drassia also remembered something Rawal had told her when he’d given her the assignment to find the ends of the Shadow Road: "My only advice to you is that such a place is likely to be guarded by creations. Probably serviles. Probably a lot of them.” If Rawal’s guess was right, this seemed a likely place to find one entrance. It also made Drassia think: If there was one servile village, why couldn’t there be two? If she found an entrance to the Shadow Road here, she would bet all the money she had that there would be another servile village on the other end. Of course, finding an entrance here wouldn’t be easy; if she snuck through, she would have to ensure that she didn’t get caught, and if she wound up fighting... well, that would likely result in her death.

Not allowing any of her thoughts to show on her face, Drassia walked boldly into Kaz, followed by Fang and Spitfire. Not far into the village, she found a clearing with wagons piled high with goods in it, far more than such a small settlement needed. It seemed Kaz was a waypoint for the transportation of lots of supplies. More evidence that one terminus of the Shadow Road could be found here. On the west side of the clearing was the building that dominated Kaz. It was huddled up against the stone cliff face to the west. Drassia could hear a lot of activity inside: serviles working, shouting, practicing with their weapons. The guards and signs by the door told Drassia that the serviles valued their privacy; if she was caught in there without permission, she would find likely find herself failing to fight her way out of the town.

One of the serviles in the clearing was staring at Drassia. She held a thorn baton and was a brick of solid muscle on legs, her hands and face marked with burns and scars. Drassia sized her up, concluding that this was a servile she did not want to fight. Not fairly, anyway. When the servile noticed Drassia looking back at her, she walked up to Drassia almost as boldly as Drassia had walked into Kaz and said, “I Celaa. I watch goods. I watch hall.” She pointed at the hall to the west. “Stay back. Am guard.” Many of the rebel serviles spoke very well. Celaa, apparently, wasn’t one of them.

“Can you tell me about Kaz?” Drassia asked, as innocently as she could.

“It little town. Not like coast. Big town there. Small town here. Lots of trees. I defend. Bryn lets me lead. Must fight rogue to east. Must take servile. Go help with rogue. But have to stay here. Can’t go east. Makes angry.”

Drassia seized the opportunity she saw to get in Kaz’s good graces. “Tell me about the rogues to the east. I’m sure Bryn would want you to get other warriors to fight for you.”

Drassia’s bid to get more out of Celaa succeeded. “Hmmm. Bryn say not trust outsiders, but he say we need to fight. If you want fight for us, I let you. East is swamp. Is camp of servile soldiers there. Hiding. They hunt rogue in swamp. Not enough. Need help. Tell them I send you. Help them stay alive, or rogue wipe them out.” Now Drassia knew of a way to make the serviles and rebels less suspicious of her: help these servile soldiers. Of course, if she wanted to make nice with the Shapers, she would want to wipe them out herself instead of waiting for these rogues to do it, but Drassia was not feeling overly sympathetic to them.

“How can I find them?”

“Go east. Look for a servile. Say I send. That servile lead you to others.”

Drassia nodded. “Tell me about Bryn.”

Celaa seemed almost eager to do so. “Bryn leader. Bryn good. Bryn teach me. Say I must take freedom. Hates outsiders, though. Says I fear them. Not. I want to meet them. Like you. Don’t tell Bryn I say so.”

“I won’t,” Drassia promised. “I’ll go find the serviles you want me to help.” She turned and went east towards the swamps.

 

* * *

 

Terrestia was a rough rectangle, with the eastern and western halves connected by two narrow stretches of inhospitable land. In the south were the Grayghost Mountains, tall, cold, and nearly impossible to climb without a very specific set of skills. In the north were the Okavano Fens, the cold, wet, miserable swamps where Drassia found herself now. It was now the heavily-defended no-man’s-land between rebel and Shaper lands. It showed signs of constant skirmishes; there were many bodies, human, servile, and creation alike, buried in the soft muck where they had fallen in battle, and Drassia could see where minefields had detonated, leaving scorched earth where plants were just beginning to grow back. Now, though, it was surprisingly quiet. The main forces of the rebel and loyalist armies were elsewhere, and there were no major offensives taking place against the Mera-Tev. Of course, that didn’t mean that the place wasn’t dangerous; uncontested lands naturally drew brigands and rogues — such as those Drassia was being sent to hunt.

Drassia was on the northern edge of a large body of water, going east. It wasn’t long before she saw four serviles huddled around a fire where there had once been a few buildings and a dock. Now only the dock remained; the war had destroyed the rest. She frowned; hadn’t Celaa said there would be a servile to lead her to the camp? She shrugged, supposing it wasn’t really important how she found them as long as she did find them, and approached.

The leader of the serviles rose to meet Drassia as she got closer. Drassia could see nervous looks on the faces of the other serviles. The leader, an armed, armored, powerfully muscled specimen whose face bore a complex pattern of tattoos and ritual scars, pointed a heavy broadsword at Drassia and said, “I am Parl. We are soldiers. We are warriors of Kaz, to the west. The Shapers have let us be here. I am not trying to be rude, but please go and let us be.”

Drassia said, “Celaa sent me. I want to help you.”

Parl looked very skeptical. “We have our own fight to do. We have a pack of battle alphas to clear out. They have been attacking us and stealing our ornks. We can manage. We do not want to fight with outsiders.”

Drassia said, “I want to help the rebels. You can trust me.”

Parl still seemed skeptical. “Can we trust you to be any help to us in battle?”

“Yes, you can,” Drassia said. “I have received plenty of training in battle magic.” It was true; she had visited the Shaper that Astoria had told to train her, a researcher called Sage Quothe who had seemed to see her as little more than a very interesting lab specimen. Drassia supposed that this wasn’t entirely unreasonable, as most people such as her were fighting for the rebels and were therefore more willing to kill Shapers than be examined by them, but it still irritated her.

Parl finally accepted Drassia’s offer of help. “We have a common cause. I will let you fight with us. We begin soon. We will attack the battle alpha camp. Tell us when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now.”

The serviles leaped to their feet and gathered their weapons, looking eager to have some backup. Parl said, “We’ll move quickly. Don’t fall behind. We want to have surprise on our side.” Drassia nodded and moved out with the serviles.

The serviles led Drassia to a settlement that had been smashed up in some skirmish or other. The buildings were now sinking into the muck, but Drassia could see the tribe of battle alphas moving about in the ruins. There were two ways to get in, one to Drassia’s left, the other to her right; each looked like it had six or seven alphas moving around beyond. Using hand signals, Parl communicated to Drassia that he and the other serviles would take the right while Drassia and creations would take the left. Drassia nodded and cast blessing and shielding spells on all seven of them. The serviles looked surprised but grateful as they moved in.

On the way between Mera and Kaz, Drassia had found a junk shop with an ornery owner named Stollen. Through paying him a fair amount of money and convincing him that she would keep quiet about what she found there, Drassia had gotten Stollen to open two locked rooms in his shop. One of them had contained an augmentation canister. Drassia would be lying if she said that she didn’t get a rush from using the things, but she knew that the effects if she allowed herself to become addicted to them would probably not be pretty. She’d used it, though, because in her experience, those things were useful as hell. This one had given her an ability that she didn’t think she could extend to the serviles because she hadn’t created them. She used this ability as she and her creations charged their group of alphas.

Hard, sharp thorns grew out of their skins and Drassia’s armor, covering them and making it very unpleasant for anyone (or anything) that might try to punch, bite, or sting them. Spitfire spat fire at one as Fang spat poison at another. Drassia drew her sword as the alphas roared and charged at them. There were seven of them.

Seven battle alphas against one fyora, one roamer, and one increasingly badass human. Drassia almost felt sorry for the alphas.

Being mobile creations made for combat, battle alphas weren’t especially bright, but they often knew some battle tactics, as they often fought beyond the reach of the human that commanded them. These alphas were no exception; they surrounded Drassia and her creations in a loose circle before closing it with Drassia in the middle. In ordinary circumstances, Drassia would have made sure to get out of the alphas’ way so that they would simply run into each other with no interference from her, but Drassia didn’t consider having spines growing out of her skin to be “ordinary circumstances”. As Fang and Spitfire jumped between alphas to get out of the circle, Drassia ran straight at one. It threw an uppercut at her; Drassia caught it on her shield and got thrown backwards. The alpha roared in pain and clutched its bleeding hand as Drassia flew through the air and straight into another alpha.

All of the thorns on her back pierced the alpha’s torso, causing it, too, to roar in pain. Drassia jerked her body around on it, her spikes ripping through more flesh. She jumped off just as the alpha fell in a bloody heap. One down, six to go, she thought. The one that had punched her was still nursing its hand, surprising Drassia; she had expected that, even with the thorns, the alphas would simply keep hitting her as long as she was alive, up to and beyond the point where their fists had been worn down to bloody stumps. However, that meant there were five still in the fight. Fang and Spitfire were taking on a pair, but that left three to attack Drassia, and attack they did. Drassia wasn’t fast enough to dodge all of them. She evaded two, but the third hit her in the side of the face, knocking her down. She barely rolled out of the way of a downward strike from one of the others and got back on her feet, facing them again. One roared and threw a punch at her, but Drassia sidestepped and turned ninety degrees, letting the alpha’s own momentum drive her sword through its stomach. She twisted the blade and jerked it out, letting the alpha fall dead at her feet. The two alphas remaining to fight her both threw punches in her general direction; Drassia stabbed one in the heart — and the first alpha that had punched her grabbed her from behind and pinned her arms to her side.

Drassia cursed herself for a fool; she’d just forgotten about that one and let it get the drop on her. The one fighting her that she hadn’t killed yet let out a grim chuckle and prepared to throw a punch. As it drew its fist back, it left its chest unguarded. Drassia pulled her legs up and, using the chest of the alpha holding her as an anchor, kicked with both legs, one foot aimed for the heart, the other aimed for the throat. The alpha about to punch her dropped like a stone, and the alpha holding her got some spikes in its chest. It let her go, roaring in pain; Drassia turned and beheaded it just as Fang and Spitfire killed their second alpha.

Drassia turned towards where Parl and his serviles were, only to find three of the serviles and all but one of the battle alphas dead on the ground; Parl, the servile still living, drove his broadsword through the heart of an alpha just as it bashed his skull in with a rock. Both fell, dead. Drassia sighed, cast a group healing spell on herself and her creations, and turned to leave.

The way out was blocked by a battle beta, the unimaginative upgrade to the battle alpha: bigger, stronger, tougher, and nastier. This one had a horn around its neck; when it saw the carnage, it raised the horn to its lips and blew. Drassia heard an answering roar from behind her and figured that she’d better kill this thing quickly before whatever it had called arrived. She, Fang, and Spitfire all leaped at the beta, Drassia aiming for its heart, Spitfire aiming for its neck, and Fang aiming for its stomach. The beta knocked Fang and Spitfire out of the air, but Drassia’s blade struck true, sinking into the beta’s heart. Drassia pulled her sword out and turned around to see three more alphas and an even bigger beta.

The beta thumped its chest and roared, “I Frak Bonesplitter! These my lands! I k—”

Drassia didn’t give it the chance to finish; she simply bisected it from face to groin. The alphas behind it turned and ran, shocked at seeing their leader killed so easily. Drassia froze parts of their bodies with an ice spell and finished the job with quick, brutal sword strikes to their heads. She turned and left, not relishing the idea of having to tell Celaa that her warriors were dead.

 

* * *

 

“The tribe of rogues is dead,” Drassia told Celaa, “but your warriors died killing them.”

Celaa nodded and sighed. “Good that rogue dead. Not that serviles are. Bryn should have let me go and fight. Will tell him now.” She turned and headed into the building to the south. As she went, Drassia looked around, searching for anything that might give away the location of one end of the Shadow Road.

She saw a small path right next to the western hall of Kaz. It appeared unguarded; Drassia thought that was the best way to avoid drawing attention to it, if it was what she thought it was. She casually made her way over and, when none of the guards were looking, slipped in. Not far down the path was a door into the hall. It was, of course, locked, but Drassia picked it and padded into the darkened hallway beyond. The next obstacle for her to overcome was a trap in the floor: walk over it, and it would explode or do something similarly nasty. It wasn’t difficult to disarm, though. Drassia moved past, peeking around a corner; seeing no one, she silently moved to the next corner and looked around that one.

There was a warrior there, standing guard. He didn’t see Drassia in the darkness, but Drassia concealed herself until she heard his footsteps moving away. She hurried past where the guard had been; seeing a side corridor, she ducked into it. This one was stone instead of wood; it hadn’t been built with stone blocks, but had instead been hewn out of the cliffside. Drassia moved quietly down the hall until she came out into a huge underground cavern.

It was incredibly cold in there. Occasional patches of ice covered small areas of the ground. The ceiling was low and held up in places by thick stone columns. Drassia had brought no light with her, but the cavern was lit by the glow of field pylons, the kind that would incinerate her if she got too close. She thought she could see the occasional turret, too. These defenses told Drassia that she had, indeed, found the eastern terminus of the Shadow Road. They also told her that she shouldn’t explore further until she got some more experience. She slipped back out through the west hall into the outer main part of Kaz. She felt guilty for betraying the serviles, but she rationalized it by thinking that Rawal only wanted the information to embarrass Astoria, which meant he would probably wait to share it until the Shaper Council met.

Drassia resigned herself to the distasteful things she had to do in order to find out more of what she had been able to do and left Kaz to the south, hoping to make Kratoa-Kel by nightfall.

 


	10. Kratoa-Kel

The sun was setting as Drassia finally got up to Kratoa-Kel, the mountain fortress at the top of the pass between the Mera-Tev and the Storm Plains. Drassia had heard that there was another pass, but an incident with an Unbound, the drakons pumped so full of power that they could be nothing other than mindless killing machines, had left that pass rather too dangerous to cross until and unless someone went and cleared it out. This one was the only way between the provinces. The climb up had been long and grueling: a series of switchbacks up to the walls. Put a handful of kyshakks, big, bulky, reptilian creatures that shot lightning from their mouths, at the top of the trail and Kratoa-Kel would be damn near impossible to take, at least from the Mera-Tev side.

The border seemed to be sealed, as was usual these days. Travel was restricted in order to keep new, noxious creation types as quarantined as possible. That meant it was no surprise to Drassia that the guards were watching her suspiciously and the gates at the far end of the keep were shut. In order to get through, Drassia would have to, at the very least, speak to the keep’s commander, Guardian Makar, which she was already planning on doing.

By asking directions from one of the guards, Drassia found her way to the main hall of the keep. It was built of stone and looked centuries old; it had probably been built by the natives of the Mera-Tev before the Shapers ever came. A full Guardian, whom Drassia assumed was Makar, sat on the throne, surrounded by creations and ready to impress travelers with the full glory of the Shapers. Below and behind him sat a small woman at a desk, pen poised to record conversations. As Drassia approached, Makar inspected her and clearly did not like what he saw. He said, “I am Guardian Makar, commander of Kratoa-Kel. None pass through without my permission. Approach and state your business. Quickly.” The woman at the desk jotted down what he said. Makar leaned forward. “You are a suspect creature. You have clearly been touched by illegal Shaping. I can sense the essence in you. You had best show me something that gives you authority to pass through these lands.”

Drassia showed him the papers Rawal had given her. Makar took one look and laughed. “Signed by Rawal? I should imprison you for carrying papers with his signature, not help you. Oh, and it says I should treat a thing like you as a Shaper?” He laughed again. Drassia felt her rage rising, but pushed it down. “I still don’t know where that man gets these ideas. Your permission to pass through here is denied, Warped One. Do your business here and leave.”

“Why do you call me Warped One?” asked Drassia.

“You think I’ve never seen your kind before? We’ve all heard stories of Rawal’s new, cunning servant,” Makar said. “Now you’re here, and I see you’re just the same as all the others: a powerful, unfocused, erratic canister addict.”

“You’ve met people like me?” Drassia asked.

Makar snorted. “No. I have fought people like you, vile creatures that break Shaper law simply by existing, and I killed them. They were no match for the focus and discipline of a true Shaper.”

“How am I erratic?”

Makar pointed at Drassia and laughed, a nasty, smug, arrogant chuckle. Drassia’s anger began to rise again. Her fists clenched at her sides, and she could feel a flush crawling up her cheeks. She vaguely felt herself summoning the power to lash out at Makar. Makar stopped laughing and turned serious again. “You have partaken deeply of the canisters. They change you. Make you weak. You should be careful about Shaping yourself.”

“What have you heard about me?” Drassia asked.

“Just stories. Most of them false, obviously; just a product of the vomit of gossip that appears during war. I judge you by what I see, and that does not speak in your favor.”

Drassia almost wanted to ask him to recount some of the stories he’d heard, but she restrained herself. “Let’s just get down to business. Astoria sent me here because she believes that the assassins who tried to kill her have a contact here.”

Makar frowned. “You are the one Astoria said she was sending? I thought she had better sense than that.” He turned to the woman at the desk. “Somini, be sure not to miss a word of this.” She nodded. Makar turned back to Drassia. “For someone to try to assassinate a member of the Council... That is unforgivable. I do not care for you, creature, but if Astoria thinks you can find the villain, I will not stand in your way.”

“You had no idea this was going on?”

“No. I am ashamed of this lapse on my part. Assuming, of course, that your intelligence is true.” Makar looked at Somini to make sure she’d gotten that last bit. She nodded.

“I’d like to hear what you know of the situation here, said Drassia.

“Of course. I will cooperate fully. On this matter.”

“Why do you think someone would want to kill Astoria?” Drassia asked.

“It’s wartime. Killing a member of the Council might throw the entire land into disarray, which would benefit the rebels,” said Makar. “Of course, Astoria has occasionally followed paths that were... controversial, but the drakons and the rebels are the natural suspects. Or the Trakovites.”

“The Trakovites?” Drassia asked, confused.

“Their hatred for the Shapers and their ways is well known, as is their fanaticism. One of their agents might have slipped out of Okavano to attempt the crime.” Drassia took note that the Trakovites were believed to be in Okavano before asking her next question.

“What controversial paths has Councilor Astoria followed?”

“There are rumors that she is trying to make peace with the rebels. I distrust rumors, and even if they are true, the place to deal with it is in the Shaper Council, among Shapers.”

“Do you think she should make peace with the rebels?” Drassia asked.

“Of course. On our terms, and in accordance with all the laws of the Shapers. But she is on the Council, and I am not. I will trust in her wisdom.”

Drassia mulled over that one for a moment. “Where do you think I should look for the assassins?”

Makar thought about that carefully. Then he said, “This fort is small. There is little here that I don’t know about. But there is one place that I do not control: the Stoneworks.”

“What are the Stoneworks?” Drassia asked.

“A Shaper installation, for working stone into things for our use. Essence pools, Shaping equipment, the occasional golem, and so on. It was sealed several decades ago because of some accident. I don’t know the details.” Drassia noticed that Somini stopped writing for a moment. When she started again, her hand was shaking. Makar continued, oblivious. “Normally, I would not mention it, but for the noises.”

“What sort of noises?”

“A few clunks. A hum. Stone grinding on stone. Brief and barely perceptible, but noteworthy after decades of silence.”

“Can I investigate the Stoneworks?” Drassia asked.

“That would be wise,” Makar said. “It will give me time to question everyone here again and search every room, every bookshelf, every dresser. The entrance to the Stoneworks is to the northeast. I will have it unsealed for you. It should be interesting; you will be the first person to enter in decades. Or, at least, you’re supposed to be.”

“Anything else you can tell me about the Stoneworks? Or any plans?”

“I am afraid not. As I said, it has been closed for decades,” Makar replied. “I suspect that you will find only a tedious series of empty rooms and that the noises were caused by minor vermin. Still, you can and should investigate on my authority.”

“Can you help me find any more information on the Stoneworks?” Drassia asked.

Makar shook his head. “You know everything I do. Even for Shapers, it is difficult to get information on Barred areas. I wish you luck in tracking down these criminals. Despite your warped nature, you might actually be useful.” He turned to his secretary. “Somini, please transcribe your report of this meeting.”

Somini nodded, got up, and left. As she did, she met Drassia’s eyes briefly. Something was bothering her.

Drassia said, “I will go investigate the Stoneworks,” and left. Something was bothering her, too: Makar had transitioned from being an arrogant, obstructive zealot to being a helpful, reasonable informant with a speed that frightened her. She was all but certain that he and Somini both knew more than they were saying. It would be hard to get more out of Makar without some evidence to back it up, but Somini she might be able to convince to help, and if that didn’t work, intimidation was an option, too.

Drassia followed Somini to her office, which was surprisingly large and spacious. Two pieces of the abstract sculpture that Shapers favored sat in corners. Somini sat down at her desk and began to write, occasionally taking a sip from a goblet of water. Drassia quietly cleared her throat to get Somini’s attention. Somini jumped slightly and turned to Drassia, saying, “I’m sorry, I am very busy. I mean, I can help, but not very much. I don’t know anything Guardian Makar doesn’t.”

“Can you tell me anything about the Stoneworks?” Drassia asked.

“Only what Guardian Makar told me. It is Barred. That means one can only enter with the permission of a high-ranking Shaper. It’s been here for years. Nobody really thinks about it.” Talking about the place was making Somini very nervous.

Drassia asked, “What’s bothering you?”

“Bother? Me? Nothing... I’m just... That someone would try to kill a member of the Shaper Council,” Somini blurted. “And then come here. It’s just too horrible. That’s all.”

Drassia leaned close. “Somini, you’re a very bad liar. I was sent here by Astoria herself to investigate this. If you know anything at all that might help me, you must tell me now.”

Somini looked stricken. She looked down at her desk, almost paralyzed with fear. Finally, she reached into the back of a low drawer in the desk and took out a key. She whispered, her voice trembling with terror, “I found this in the customs hall. There was a fire. Most of the old records were destroyed. I took this before all the old records were thrown out. It was inside a scroll that was mostly burnt up. I don’t know why I saved it. It’s just... I was bothered. Why was there a key there? I think it’s from the Stoneworks.” She shoved the key into Drassia’s hand. “I don’t know what’s happening. You didn’t get that key from me. Please leave.” She returned to her work, her hand shaking so badly she could barely use her pen.

Drassia quietly said, “Thank you,” and left. She felt bad about being mean to the poor woman, but if this key helped, it would have been for a good cause. Drassia snorted, drawing an odd look from a passing guard. That’s not going to make me feel any better.

She went northeast past an inn devoid of customers and found a lone soldier standing outside a door that looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. Lichens and moss grew in the cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. At Drassia’s approach, the soldier put out her hand and said, in an exaggeratedly officious tone, “Halt. I am Sergeant Jess of Kratoa-Kel. I tell you that this area is Barred by order of the Shapers. You must go back.” Then she dropped her hand and spoke normally. “That was the speech. You should go back. There’s nothing here anyway.”

“I have permission to pass from Guardian Makar,” said Drassia.

Sergeant Jess shrugged. “You can claim what you want. I only say what I am ordered to. This place is Barred. That means that no one can enter. The Shapers say so.”

Drassia walked past her to the door, which vibrated at her approach, shaking off some dust and mold, and opened. Behind her, Jess said, “Of course, I could be wrong about that last bit.”

Drassia shrugged. “Happens. I only got permission from Makar about five minutes ago, so I can’t expect that you would’ve heard so fast. I’ll be going in now.” She turned and entered, muttering, “Hopefully I’ll get to the bottom of this without getting killed.”

“Wait, what?” called Jess, but the door was already closed.

 

* * *

 

The Stoneworks were cold, musty, and still. The floor was covered with dust and dead lichens. The only sound was the distant echo of air passing through the stone halls. Perhaps, Drassia thought, some of the old ventilation tunnels were still open. She was in an entry chamber where piles of stone were sorted and carted off to be made into bowls, shells, and the occasional golem. She looked around for signs that anyone else had been there and found nothing. Despite her earlier suspicions, she started to think that perhaps she was wasting her time.

She walked down the hall between the huge piles of granite. She guessed that these must have just gotten here before the place was Barred. As she walked, she saw something on the ground. She bent down to examine it. It was a scuff in the dust, as if someone’s boot had dragged along the ground for a moment. It was faint, but Drassia didn’t think it was her imagination. Perhaps she really was onto something.

Drassia walked a little farther down the hall and found a junction, one hall going to her right, the other to her left. She took the one to her left and found a stone door with a locked lever beside it. Drassia fished the key she’d gotten from Somini out of her pocket and tried it in the lock. The lock opened.

Her eyebrows rose. _Huh._

She pulled the lever and walked through the now-open door, finding a few large power crystals, one of which had exploded. She was about to keep going when she noticed something else: there were power conduits in the floor. Active ones. Seeing that, Drassia was instantly convinced that something fishy was going on here. She could hear the grinding of stone on stone around a corner a hundred feet or so distant just before a golem walked into her line of sight.

Drassia held still, hardly daring to breathe, Fang and Spitfire copying her, as the golem waited for a moment, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as the golem turned around and went back the way it had come. She slipped through the room it had come through, where it looked like the stone had been carved for its various purposes, and to another room where two golems stood on Shaping platforms with power conduits running into them. They were completely still, but their eyes still glowed slightly. It wasn’t immediately clear if they could move or not.

Drassia found a control panel connected to the Shaping platforms. It looked like it would be easy to reawaken the golems. What they would do once reawakened was, of course, another matter entirely. Drassia decided to take the risk of having to fight a pair of übergolems and powered them up.

The golems’ eyes glowed brighter. They moved off the platforms. Using her affinity with creations, Drassia could tell that these were confused and scared, trying to comprehend what had happened. Drassia raised her hands in a peaceful gesture and calmed the golems, bringing them under her control. As they lumbered towards her, eager to be given a task, Drassia marveled at the quality of the workmanship. When the Shapers built something, they built it to last.

Drassia led the golems to the carving room, where the golem patrols were passing. Two of the golems on the patrol came from the south and saw the group. Thankfully, they raised no alarm, but they came lumbering towards them with surprising speed for their size. Drassia prepared to fight, but the golems she had awakened had other ideas.

Drassia’s servants rushed the patrol golems, and Drassia discovered that there was an extremely large difference between her fighting style and that of the golems. She used a combination of magical and physical blows while trying to block or dodge those her opponents threw at her. The golems did not. Their way of fighting was to hit their opponents as hard and fast as possible without trying even a little bit to mitigate the damage their opponents were dealing them. That made a fight between golems an excellent test of which was hardier. Drassia watched as her servant golems handed the patrol golems their heavy stone asses, hitting harder and faster than their opponents. It even seemed to Drassia that her servants were tougher, even taking into account the difference in the strength of the golems’ blows. The patrol golems crumbled under the fists of Drassia’s servants, as did the other two golems on the patrol.

Drassia went south from the carving room, finding only a control panel with the labels on the buttons faded to nothing. Since messing with a control panel had worked out well in the case of the servant golems, Drassia pressed some buttons. She eventually got it to make a click and a hum. Nothing else happened.

She went back to the junction and took the other hallway. This one led to another group of Shaping platforms with golems on them and power conduits running through them. This group had four. This time, though, Drassia didn’t have to do anything to make the golems reactivate. They started to turn their heads, looking for intruders. Drassia was pretty sure she counted. Unfortunately, there was only one way to go forward: right past the golems. Drassia blessed, shielded, and hasted her little group and moved in.

Drassia’s servant golems did nearly all the work for her. All she had to do was spray a couple of the guardian golems with acid (a remarkably effective way of hurting them), and pretty soon four golems lay in pieces on the floor. Drassia continued on. The servant golems did too, until they suddenly stopped. They jerked and twitched. Stone chips started falling off their bodies, then larger chunks. Drassia shook her head sadly; they were beyond her help now.

She continued south to another stone door. This one opened at her approach into the power core of the Stoneworks: a room with two crystal spires in it and a large device at the center with power conduits running through it to regulate the power. Drassia knew that this room would probably have some safety measures that someone who wanted her dead could activate, trapping her inside, but unless she wanted to return to Astoria and tell her that she had ignored a very promising lead, she had to go in. She did, and her fears about the room were instantly justified. The door slid closed behind her; as if that wasn’t enough, a much thicker stone slab fell from the ceiling, blocking off the door and sealing Drassia inside. The power conduits started to glow, running power into the machine. It seemed to cope well enough, but the power was increasing, and if it got too high, the machine in the center would have to start releasing the energy somewhere.

Drassia looked around, seeing the control panels hooked into the power flow: one for the north, the other for the south. She also saw two doors, one at the southeast corner, the other in the west wall, both locked. She immediately went to the control creatures, getting the power as low as she could before heading for the east door and looking at the locking mechanism. There was a metal plate with a seam in it covering the thing. Drassia shoved her sword in the seam and pried it open, revealing an alarming combination of chains, levers, and gears. Drassia leaped for the control panels and turned the power flow down again. She went back to the east door, about to look again at the lock, and heard a noise from behind the west door: claws scratching on stone. The door slowly started to open, the lever next to it moving from one setting to the other. Drassia ran over to the lever and hurled her whole body weight against the lever, trying to stop it. It didn’t work. She looked around and, seeing a pile of rubble nearby, jammed a rock between two gears. The lever stopped, but the rock started cracking almost immediately.

Drassia went back to the east door, looking for the right thing to pull to get it open. No luck. As she turned back to the control panels, the rock she’d stuck in the gears of the west door broke, and the door started opening again. It finally opened up enough to let in the creations on the other side in: a pack of five freshly created guardian roamers, a big, hardy variant that had a nasty, acidic bite.

Drassia blessed, shielded, and hasted her little group as fast as she could before the roamers got to them. The doorway was only big enough to fit one creation at a time, but the guardian roamers got through it quickly and charged Drassia. One leaped at her, its fangs aimed for her throat; she swung her sword down, splitting its skull open. The other four had split themselves between Fang and Spitfire, two of them double-teaming each of Drassia’s creations. Fang was doing well for itself, dodging most of the guardian roamers’ bites and spitting back at them, but Spitfire was not as successful: it had no time to strike back, only barely dodging the roamers’ snapping teeth. One of the roamers bit Spitfire in the leg, digging its teeth in to hold the fyora as its partner closed in for the kill. Spitfire’s cry of pain was drowned out by Drassia’s scream of rage that her fyora was being hurt; Drassia beheaded both roamers with strikes so fast her blade seemed to teleport. She healed Spitfire, knowing she would have to do something about the acid that must now be in its leg sooner rather than later, and turned to Fang, which by now had taken only a long scratch along its side while crippling one of the roamers attacking it. Drassia killed the roamer that was still in action first, taking it by surprise from behind, and killed the crippled one with a strike to the head. She breathed out in relief, turning to cure Spitfire — and the machine in the center of the room let out a wave of energy.

Drassia, Fang, and Spitfire all cried out in pain and ran to take shelter in the room to the west. Drassia healed and cured both of her creations as the machine spewed energy, then, shielding herself again and preparing herself for the pain she was about to face, ran back into the power core. She lowered the power flow first in the southern conduit, then in the northern one as she was buffeted by waves of energy. She got the power down to a non-dangerous level and signaled Fang and Spitfire to come back in. She ran back to the eastern door and looked at the mechanism again. Frustrated, she grabbed a random chain and pulled on it. The door opened.

She blinked. _If there is a god of luck, he, she, or it is smiling on me right now,_ she thought.

She, Fang, and Spitfire ran through the door into the tunnels beyond, which were dotted with heating pads in the floor. Most of them looked active. Drassia knew that stepping on one would be painful at best and lethal at worst, so she set about finding a way around them. Using paths with no pads on them, Drassia was able to find spore boxes that turned the heat down on enough of the pads to make a path for her. After navigating the maze of tunnels, Drassia found a locked door. She picked the lock and opened it; following some power conduits on the floor, she found another pair of dormant golems that she reactivated and bent to her will. Going north, she found another quartet of guardian golems that her servant golems beat through as fast as the first pair had. As she turned to continue on, something caught Drassia’s eye: a notebook on a pedestal. The notebook had been struck with a bolt of flame, so it was mostly unreadable, but Drassia found a few sentences she could make out.

“I have warned Asher. Repeatedly. His work, even if it was productive, which it isn’t, is forbidden. It is going to bring the wrath of the Shapers down.”

Drassia thought about that for a moment. Was whatever this Asher had been working on the reason the Stoneworks had been Barred? If so, the assassin could have found it and used it to his own ends. That was not a prospect that Drassia relished; though the Shapers had their flaws, they did generally try to control their creations (which was the reason the rebellion had been started in the first place). If this place had been Barred because of a creation that they hadn’t been able to control or destroy... Drassia didn’t want to think about the damage someone might be able to do by pointing such a thing in the right direction. Realizing that she might be in over her head but knowing she had no choice, she continued onward.

She found a room with three more golems waiting in it, but one of them was different; it had runes etched on its surface, and its eyes glowed brighter. The effect was immediately obvious when one of Drassia’s servant golems ran up and punched it: this one didn’t take nearly as much damage as most of the golems did. Drassia sprayed all three of the hostile golems with acid and watched as they dissolved, the rune-etched one helped along by her servants. As they finished, Drassia noticed that there were ovens in the room, no doubt for heating stones and crystals up to the extremely high temperatures they needed to be at to be worked properly. The floors had been swept clean of the usual dust, and the smell of fresh smoke hung in the air. Drassia knew she was getting close. She continued on, rounding a corner. She stopped dead at the sight that greeted her.

There was a golem there, standing in a glowing circle surrounded by crystals. However, it was different from all of the golems she had seen so far. This one was huge and made of black basalt, heat and power radiating off it. And Drassia could sense the presence it gave off. This golem was not mindless. Drassia could feel the anger pouring off it in waves. The thing hated mortals. It hated Shapers. Really, it hated anything it could reach. Drassia knew it had to be able to see her, but it stood there doing nothing. Perhaps it’s waiting for something? Drassia thought. Then she saw someone move behind the golem. It was Guardian Makar. At first, Drassia thought he might have gotten to the Stoneworks to help her. Then he stood beside the golem, and Drassia realized that that wasn’t the case. Makar said, “So, you have survived to this point. I am disappointed, but not surprised. I suspected your freakish augmentations might protect you.”

“Why are you here?” asked Drassia. She thought she knew, but she wanted to hear it from Makar’s own mouth.

“To kill you, of course,” said Makar. “Once you’re dead, I can begin preparing to kill Astoria personally. I was sentimental, relying on fools and outsiders. I thought I could avoid having another Shaper’s blood on my hands — but it was not to be.”

“So you sent Baston to kill Astoria?”

“Of course. And I was a fool. He was an accomplished assassin, but he was an outsider. Being near a Shaper unnerved him. He panicked. He made mistakes. And he got the death he deserved. When I have lured Astoria here, I will make no such mistakes.”

“Why do you want to kill Astoria?” Drassia asked.

“Because no other is brave enough to!” Makar exploded. “Do you know what she wants to do? Make peace with the rebels! Cede land to them! Allow them, the rogues and thieves of our skills, to continue to exist! She wants to, by herself, completely uproot all of the laws that have sustained us for centuries. For that, she will die a death worthy of the weakling that she is.”

“Are you sure?” Drassia asked. “Maybe Astoria is stronger than you think.”

“Astoria is powerful, yes. But then I will ask her to come here. I will tell her that I discovered you were plotting to assassinate her, confess that I was unable to question you fully, and ask for her help. She was already intending to come here to inspect the defenses. She will arrive here within days. And she will be surrounded by my creations.” Makar patted the arm of the black golem. “And, with the help of my new servants, she will be destroyed. I will be hunted down and killed, of course, but that is a small price to pay for the honor of the Shapers.”

Drassia pointed at the black golem and asked, “What is that thing?”

“It is the reason the Stoneworks were Barred. It has a certain... diabolical spirit bond within it. The Guardian who did it fled when his crime was discovered. Supposedly, he went to the mountains to the southeast. He was never heard from again, but this golem was left behind. It is unstable. When it unleashes its full power, it won’t last for long. But then, I only need it to kill one target. All I need to do is master my control of it.”

“And... how exactly are you planning to do that?” Drassia asked, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Practice, of course. Starting with you.” He raised his hands and concentrated. “Yes. The... what? What are you? You are... Bound... Bound One. Yesssss... go. Kill. Let’s see what you can do.”

The golem lumbered awkwardly towards Drassia. Makar’s control was, as yet, imperfect, but Drassia knew it would only get better with time. Her servant golems rushed the dark golem and, true to form, started beating on it as hard and fast as they could with little regard for their own well-being; Fang and Spitfire also attacked, though from a much greater distance. Being made of basalt, the dark golem took little damage from the attacks of Drassia’s servants, but, as Makar hadn’t gotten the hang of controlling it yet, it wouldn’t deal the sort of damage that Drassia was sure it could under the right circumstances.

A few cracks suddenly began to appear in the dark golem. For a moment, Drassia was hopeful that maybe it wasn’t as well-made as it looked, but a strange mist began to seep out of the cracks. When a wisp of it touched Drassia’s skin, it burned. It seemed that this was part of the design of the golem. Despite the fact that she was trying to kill it, Drassia had to admire the ingenuity of the Guardian that Makar had said had made it, probably this Asher she had read about. She threw some curing spores, spores magically augmented to neutralize poison and acid, into the air to make sure she wouldn’t have to cast a bunch of curing and healing spells later. The dark golem took a few more hits, and Drassia felt it become more unstable, its rage and confusion making more volatile by the second. Makar said, “Well, it seems that I shall have to enter the fray to finish this job. It’ll be good practice for the real thing.” He drew his sword. Drassia noticed that his brow was covered in sweat and his expression was distant; he was controlling all of the creations outside in Kratoa-Kel, and he had little essence left to deal with Drassia. Alas, his sword required no magical energy to function. He attacked Drassia.

Drassia blocked with her shield. Makar struck again from her left; Drassia blocked again and stabbed at his chest. Makar slapped it aside with his own shield and swung his sword in a strike intended to take Drassia’s head off. She ducked and stabbed upward at Makar’s throat. He leaned back, Drassia’s sword barely missing him, and swung his sword back from the other side, this time at Drassia’s waist. Drassia dodged by jumping nearly four feet straight up; while she was in the air, she swung down at Makar, intending to bisect him. Makar leaped backwards; he and Drassia were ten feet apart when she landed. Drassia rushed forward, her sword out in front of her; Makar sidestepped her, and Drassia ducked and rolled in anticipation of his next move. She wasn’t disappointed; she heard the rush of air as Makar’s sword sliced through the space where her neck would have been. She came up and spun around. Makar slowly advanced on her; Drassia prepared to defend herself — and something caught her attention behind him.

The dark golem stumbled. For just a moment, its emotions changed: no rage, no anger, just confusion. Drassia took the opportunity she saw and tried to take control of the golem, blocking Makar’s strikes on muscle memory alone. Suddenly Makar realized what she was doing and turned around to stop her, but it was too late: Makar found himself between Drassia and the dark golem, coming at him like a hammer and an anvil. He leaped out of the way and saw his opponents: a fyora, a roamer, two golems, one übergolem that had just been stolen from his control, and the illegally Shaped probable former rebel who had stolen it from him. He snarled at Drassia, “Who the hell are you!?”

Drassia smiled. “Wouldn’t I like to know.”

Makar’s only response was to expend all the essence he had left to create five worms to try to salvage the situation. Even with the numbers evened out, though, the odds were still stacked against Makar. Fang and Spitfire made short work of the worms as the three golems closed on him. He smashed one of Drassia’s servants with one mighty blow, but left himself open to attack from the other two. They hit him at the same time, throwing him across the room. Drassia heard bones crack. A lot of them.

Makar dragged himself up against a wall, blood seeping from his mouth, and said to Drassia, “You monster. You warped thing. You cannot live... forever. The Shapers will crush... crush all traitors. You will... will...” Then he died the way all Guardians aspired to: with dignity in battle.

Drassia quietly said, “No match for the focus and discipline of a true Shaper, huh? I guess you finally found one that was.”

She turned to look at the dark golem, muttering, “Now what am I going to do with you?” She couldn’t let it continue to exist, but she didn’t want to expend the effort to kill it. Thankfully, it solved her problem for her: It twitched, sparked — and exploded.

Drassia brought up her shield to protect herself from the flying rock, but that proved unnecessary; the explosion wasn’t big enough to throw any of the rock very far. She turned back to Makar’s body, searching it for a way to control the doors of the complex. She found a short, polished wooden baton hanging at his belt that looked like it could serve that purpose. She got up to leave and noticed Makar’s sword. It had an odd glow to it. Getting closer, Drassia could see that it was on fire; tiny flames leaped from the blade. She picked it up and put it in its sheath, then took it out again. Sure enough, the flames were still there. She sheathed it again and took it out of the Stoneworks with her.

 

* * *

 

Drassia couldn’t be sure of what the guards thought when they saw her come out of the Stoneworks. She knew that she was quite a sight: she was covered with stone dust, her clothes were splattered with blood, and she was carrying their boss’s sword. She ignored them as best she could and went to go talk to the commander — and then she realized that, now that Makar was dead, Kratoa-Kel had no commander. She supposed the closest thing the base had to a commander was now Somini, so she went to talk to her.

Somini seemed to have finished her work; she was pacing nervously around her office when Drassia came in. When she saw Drassia, Somini said anxiously, “What happened? Did you find the assassin?”

Drassia nodded.

Somini said, “I know Guardian Makar went to go help you, but —”

“No,” Drassia interrupted.

“Wh-what? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean he didn’t go into the Stoneworks to help me. He went to kill me.”

“B-but... why?” Drassia was pretty sure Somini already knew the answer, but wanted to hear something different so that she could keep her image of Makar as a good man. Drassia wished she didn’t have to shatter that image.

Drassia said, as gently as she could, “Guardian Makar was the one behind the assassination plot. He wanted to frame me for it, lure Councilor Astoria here, and kill her. I know you didn’t know it was happening,” she assured Somini.

Somini put her head in her hands. For a moment, Drassia expected her to start crying, but to her surprise, she didn’t. Instead, she lifted her head out of her hands and said, “V-very well. I will send a message to Councilor Astoria detailing the events of tonight, including a full transcript of your conversation with Guardian Makar earlier this evening.” Without waiting for a response, she slowly sat down at her desk, took out ink and paper, and began to compose a letter.

Drassia watched her for a moment, then walked out of the main hall. She looked up; while she had been in the Stoneworks, night had fallen, and the stars were out. She could just see a sliver of the moon; somehow, she knew it was waxing, though she didn’t know how. She went to the inn and paid for a night, going to her room and taking a well-deserved rest.

 

 


	11. Penta

“So... you’ve probably gotten that message by now,” said Drassia.

Councilor Astoria nodded. “I have. And Makar’s betrayal was why I forced you to aid me. I had suspected for a while that I had failed to find the plotter because they were someone close to me, someone I trusted. I needed an outsider to help me... and, lo and behold, you fell into my lap.” She took a ring off her finger and gave it to Drassia. “A small token of my appreciation.” She stared at Drassia for a moment, thinking. “I will be true to my word. You may pass beyond the Mera-Tev. But I wonder... you could be a useful ally, if I told you more about what I want to do, what I believe in.”

Drassia smiled and said, “I’m listening.” _If Kaz was an example of what she wants to do,_ she thought, _she could lead me to another servile village... where the eastern terminus of the Shadow Road would almost certainly be._

Astoria nodded. “I’ve been feeling... bereft of allies lately, even though I’m a member of the Council. Though you are... odd, I’m willing to confide in you. A little bit.

“The rebellion has been raging for years now. Slowly but surely, it crawls west, killing more people, more land. Once, the Shapers were confident that the rebellion could be put down. Overconfident, even. But then the Unbound came and destroyed half the continent. Now some feel that it may not be possible for the Shapers to win the war.”

“But if you can’t win the war, what’s the alternative?” asked Drassia.

“The settlement of Penta is west of here. It’s a servile village, run by one such creation. His name is Learned Dominic. He’s been petitioning me for help lately. I’m sending you. Go there. Do what he asks you to do. Inspect their settlement. Once you have, return and tell me what you have seen.”

Drassia nodded. “Will they be as... welcoming as the serviles in Kaz were?”

Astoria smiled. “They will be rather more so. I don’t know why Kaz is so hostile, but Penta is much more open.”

Drassia said, “I will go there now,” and left.

 

* * *

 

At first glance, Penta appeared to be little more than a small town devoted to farming and logging. At second glance, it still appeared to be that way, except that it was occupied by serviles. Only serviles. _Just like Kaz,_ Drassia thought. Drassia couldn’t help but think that a truly loyal Shaper would destroy the place immediately... though she supposed that anyone trying that would bring down the wrath of Councilor Astoria on their own heads. That certainly wasn’t something Drassia wanted. The serviles of Penta watched Drassia nervously, making no threatening moves and staying out of her way, but still wary of her. As she had in Kaz, Drassia ignored them and walked into town.

As she walked into town, Drassia encountered another traveler going the other way. She was a lone woman, perhaps in her late twenties, and she walked with a slight limp. Her clothes had been recently cleaned, but were heavily worn. Ordinarily, Drassia would have been concerned about a woman traveling alone on the roads of the Mera-Tev, but she could instantly sense the power the other woman had, as, she was sure, the other woman could in her. The woman smiled enigmatically and said, “Greetings, traveler.”

Drassia thought the woman looked vaguely familiar, but it was only familiar enough to be tantalizing, and she couldn’t tell if the other woman recognized her or not. She said, “Greetings.”

The woman stopped and said, her smile staying precisely the same, “I am called Greta. I’ve heard of you. I’m sure that’s something you’ve already gotten tired of hearing, but get used to it, because you’ll be hearing it a lot more. We who have mastered essence come to know each other very quickly. To head off your next question, I am a warrior for the rebellion, traveling and learning what I can of the Mera-Tev.”

Drassia said, “You seem familiar. Do you know who I am?”

Greta said, “You don’t ring any bells for me. Perhaps we’ve met before; I meet a lot of people in my travels. But I can’t be sure.” Drassia had no idea if she was telling the truth or not.

“You said you were trying to learn about the Mera-Tev,” Drassia said. She gestured to Penta. “Do you like what you’ve seen so far?”

“So far, yes,” Greta replied. “I’ve heard about Councilor Astoria’s intentions, about her differences with the rest of the Council. I came to see if those rumors are true. If they are — and they appear to be — I may be able to get the drakons to listen to reason. There’s a first time for everything.”

“Tell me about the drakons,” Drassia said. She wanted to know more about the masters of the rebellion, just in case she had to deal with them in the future.

“They’ve Shaped themselves too much. Remade themselves too much. Gained too much raw, innate power. This can make people arrogant, prone to fury... it can even cause amnesia.” The emphasis Greta put on the last word convinced Drassia that the woman knew more about her than she let on.

“Where are you going now?” Drassia asked.

“I’m returning to Gazaki-Uss. I’ve learned enough.” Greta nodded to Drassia. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw each other again. You look like the sort that travels.” She chuckled.

“Gazaki-Uss?”

“South. Where the lords of the drakons live.” Greta didn’t elaborate. “Now, I must be going on. Think about what you have learned. You will be contacted again. If you live.” She gave Drassia a little bow and continued past her. Drassia turned to watch her go. Greta was alone and lightly armed, without even creations for company, but Drassia pitied anyone who angered her on her journey south.

She continued into Penta. The serviles here did, indeed, seem more welcoming than those in Kaz. Drassia saw a large hall in the center of the village and entered. The hall was surprisingly luxurious. It seemed the serviles here had learned something from the Shapers; they were trying to look like more than just peasants or savages. There were tapestries and paintings hanging on the walls, some of them surprisingly good for (Drassia assumed) having been made by serviles with no training in visual art. The hall was dominated by a long table in the center, with a servile sitting at the head. He was in the period of a servile’s life where it was impossible to accurately guess his age. At Drassia’s approach, he stood and said, “Welcome to Penta. I am Learned Dominic, the leader of the free serviles here. Yes, I said free serviles. Councilor Astoria graciously allows us to live our lives on this land. Would you care for something to drink? A glass of water, perhaps?”

“Yes, thank you,” Drassia said, slightly taken aback by Learned Dominic’s calm and confidence. The servile went out of the room and returned a moment later, carrying two glasses of water. He set one in front of Drassia and sipped his own, both of them sitting down at the table.

Dominic said, “Astoria’s agents move quickly. We had only just learned of her sending you here. She hinted that you might be... useful to us. We are free and independent creatures, but we are not fools. We face challenges, and we need a mercenary. We can pay you well if you choose to help us.”

Drassia leaned back and smiled. “What did you have in mind?”

 

* * *

 

Drassia walked into the Nodye Pass. It was desert there, with few trees; a jarring difference from what she had seen just below the pass, where she had seen some young, terrified, and completely unprepared soldiers from the Nodye Coast passing by. The coastal provinces wanted to keep the war as far away as possible, so they sent soldiers to fight their battles while they stayed distant and complacent.

The pass was blocked by an enormous stone wall, even bigger than the one at the Whitespires Pass. It was guarded by a large force of both humans and creations. Drassia thought this wall could turn back a large rebel assault with very few losses. The roads up there were also guarded, though more lightly. Patrols of soldiers marched up and down, looking for anyone trying to slip through, while fyoras stood tied to posts and watching for their masters to attack anything.

Drassia remembered what Dominic had told her back in Penta. _“Because Astoria has asked us to deal with you, I will make no secret of the fact that we help unhappy serviles escape from the Nodye Coast. We have created a secret tunnel through the Nodye Pass. Its eventual discovery is inevitable, but we’re going to try and get as many serviles through as possible. The problem is that something has happened to the tunnel. Nobody has come through in weeks, and we haven’t been able to get any warriors in to find out why. I would like for you to find out what the problem is, and, if possible, solve it.”_

_“Are you sure that the Shapers haven’t found it?” Drassia asked._

_“Councilor Astoria knows that the tunnel exists, but she doesn’t know where. She says that they haven’t found it. I believe she would know.”_

As Drassia looked around, a guard peeled off from one of the patrols, looking like he was about to question her. He didn’t look friendly. He launched into a speech he had clearly had to give many, many times. “I am Captain Kellen. The Nodye Pass is closed. Only those with a letter of permission from a general or Councilor can get through. If you don’t have such a letter, you’re going to have to turn back. And spare me the bluster about how you’re going to get me demoted,” he added, casting a glance at a woman in the nearby camp who was writing letter after letter. “No papers, no pass.”

Drassia said, “I have papers signed by Councilor Rawal.” She pulled them out and showed them to him.

Kellen took them and read them. Then he handed them back, clearly impressed. “Not bad. That’s far better documentation than most people coming up here have.” He grinned nastily. “But those papers are only good for central Terrestia. They don’t say anything about the Nodye Coast. Rawal probably didn’t want you wandering off. Can’t let you by. Sorry.” He very clearly wasn’t.

Drassia said, “Oh, well. Guess I’m not headed to a life of ridiculously expensive luxury that I probably can’t afford anyway.” She sidled past Kellen toward the wall.

Kellen yelled, “Hey, where are you going? Those guards have orders to attack anyone without papers.”

Drassia turned and said, “Relax, I’m not going over there. I just to get a look at the wall before I head back down to the Mera-Tev.” Kellen seemed to accept that explanation and turned away. Drassia looked around for guards and saw several coming her way. She looked up at the wall and put an expression of wonder on her face, hoping that would stop the guards from sounding an alarm.

_Drassia leaned forward. “How do I get to the tunnel?”_

_“Enter the Nodye Pass. There is a camp at the east end. When the guards aren’t looking, go south of the camp. You will find a wall with a stone outcropping. Press the outcropping, and the way will open.”_

Drassia’s ploy worked. Once the guards had left, Drassia looked around, seeing no more, and went south. She found the outcropping and pushed on it. A section of the wall slid aside, allowing her to enter. It was remarkable that this tunnel had stayed concealed for so long, she thought. The passage led to a natural cavern with a painfully low ceiling. The tunnel leading to it had been created with magic, a single, intense blast of heat that left the sides of the tunnel rounded and smooth. The route couldn’t stay undiscovered for long, but the rebels would take full advantage of it if Drassia could remove whatever obstruction was blocking it.

Drassia walked in and instantly saw a problem. The cavern had several fyoras wandering around in it. Judging from their jerky movements, they were rogue, but they also looked... warped was the best word Drassia could think of. Their forelimbs (which were useless anyway) were twisted and stunted, and their heads were unnaturally large. They didn’t look too hard to take out, though. Drassia readied herself and stepped out, keeping her distance from the fyoras. She put out her hands and started blasting the fyoras with ice. A few seconds later, the fyoras were in frozen pieces on the ground. Drassia and her creations continued past them and headed north, finding a wall with a lever next to it. There were chains rigged to pull aside painfully thin sections of the wall when the lever was pulled. Drassia pulled it. The wall slid aside with only a soft scraping noise. Fresh air blew into the tunnel. The opening was behind a stone spire that gave Drassia some cover. She could hear guards outside.

She stepped out a little bit, unsure of where to go from here. Then she looked at the ground and saw very faint footprints leading north across the path. She was going to have to dodge the guards. She waited until she heard a patrol go past, then ran across as quietly as she could. She got past them without incident and found another opening in the wall, leading to another cavern. She slipped in and stopped dead.

There was a support in the middle of the cavern, creating a fork, and each branch of the fork was blocked by a group of mines. Like the fyoras to the south, the triggers had gone rogue; their sensor antennae quivered when Drassia got close. She looked at the mines and decided that the northern fork’s mines were less likely to instantly kill her. She went and disarmed them with little difficulty, moving on to the west. What she saw there gave her pause.

Four warped fyoras stood along the walls of the cavern, and standing in front of a trapdoor was a drayk. Drayks were always aligned with the rebels, as Shapers killed them (or died trying) on sight. This one was very old. His scales were faded and bore the marks and scars of many battles. Drassia started to ask for his help, but then she saw the look of cold hatred on his face. He said, “I am Shresss. I am in control here. Ssssss. I will not go until I am paid. No pay, and the tunnel staysss closed to you.”

“Fine. Stay here. It doesn’t matter whether you stay or go,” Drassia lied.

Her gambit worked. Shresss started looking very concerned. “Ssssss... what? What do you mean? You are abandoning the tunnel?”

“Yeah,” Drassia said casually. “The Shapers will find it soon. I’m just looking for anything left behind.”

Shresss seemed unafraid of being killed by the rebels, but the prospect of fighting a Shaper and possibly being taken over was terrifying to him. He shook his head. “I knew this wouldn’t work. The drakonsss rule. Only they get their way. None will ever challenge them. I will go. Slip into the mountains. Now leave me to my shame.” He began to gather his hoard. Drassia left, slipping past the guards again and going back down to the Mera-Tev.

 

* * *

 

“A resentful drayk was blocking your tunnel. It’s gone now,” Drassia said to Learned Dominic. She told him the tale. He nodded sadly. “The drakons grow more arrogant with every passing year. We will see more problems like this, I am afraid. I thank you for helping us. I will have one of the traps in the storeroom to the north deactivated; your reward is there. I will also send a message to Astoria that you have helped. She asked to be told. In the meantime, it is getting late.” It was; the moon had risen. “Stay here tonight. I will have a room prepared for you.”

Drassia thanked Dominic and left to get her reward, which turned out to be a chainmail shirt that appeared to help mitigate the effects of poison and about a hundred and fifty coins. She went back to the main hall and found the room prepared for her. However, she didn’t sleep. She waited for about an hour, then slipped out. She wanted to find the eastern entrance to the Shadow Road so that she could relearn more magic and Shaping from Rawal. There was one building that looked promising: It was small, but it was surrounded by trees, enough that it could easily lead to a larger grove behind it. Drassia went there and opened the door, finding that there was, indeed, a door on the other side. She tried the handle. It was locked. She unlocked it with a simple spell and walked through into a clearing.

It had been carefully concealed. There were several tents and a firepit there; it looked like over a dozen servile refugees could be hidden there without much difficulty. Drassia saw no fleeing serviles, but the firepit was smoking slightly. It had been used recently. She moved quietly onward, finding a tunnel in a cliff face, sloping sharply downwards into the darkness. Boards had been set in the muddy ground to help travelers keep their balance. Drassia went down.

She entered an abandoned mine. It looked like it had been dormant for years. The walls and support pillars were slowly crumbling, but it hadn’t yet had a full cave-in. Now it had another purpose: the eastern end of the Shadow Road. Between natural caves, mines, underground research outposts, and countless miles of holes bored out by loose clawbugs, Terrestia was honeycombed with uncharted tunnels. This tunnel didn’t seem to be without defenses; Drassia could hear the clicks and hisses of creations in the shadows, placed there to make it harder for invading Shapers to get past. Drassia looked down at the Shaper robe she was wearing, doubting that her reception would be any friendlier. She went back outside and back to her room. She felt even guiltier about finding the eastern entrance than she had the western one, but she wanted to regain the power Rawal said he could give her, and this, it seemed, was the only way to get it.

 

 


	12. Perikalia

“I’ve got my papers right here,” said Drassia, reaching into her robe for the papers Rawal had given her.

As soon as they were visible, the Shaper soldier in command of the small squadron accosting Drassia snatched them out of her hands. He looked at them and nodded. “Signed by Rawal. Those won’t get you far.” He handed them back. The other soldiers lowered their batons, which was quite a relief to Drassia, as they had all been pointed at her. “General Alwan is accepting passes from all provinces right now, but that could change any day. If I were you, I’d get a better pass.” He gave the dead servile on the ground one last kick before he and his soldiers loped off to the east. Drassia watched as they went.

She had just entered the Storm Plains, the province just south of the Mera-Tev, from Kratoa-Kel. The soldiers had just killed a rebel servile when she’d encountered them, and they had instantly turned their weapons on her when they’d seen her. Some of them looked like they had itchy trigger fingers.

Most of the Storm Plains hadn’t been touched by the war. The Shapers had managed to stop the rebel forces by erecting three fortresses in the mountain range to Drassia’s east, one of which the soldiers were going back to. While the Storm Plains did occasionally have hurricanes and tornadoes, they got their name from the fierce tribes that had been there. The Shapers had been fiercer.

Drassia looked at her map. She was northeast of Perikalia, the next place Rawal wanted her to go. It looked like she could go south, through a ruined town called Hatra, then west to get to Perikalia. She looked toward the south and saw some stone buildings. Looking at the map once more to make sure she had the route down, she stuffed it back into her pack and headed for Perikalia.

 

* * *

 

Perikalia was the largest city in the Storm Plains. The western part of the city was centuries old, predating the conquest of the Storm Plains by the Shapers. The eastern part was much newer, a collection of squat stone buildings built to house the new settlers. The place was bustling with activity. Everywhere Drassia looked, people were on a war footing; soldiers and battle creations marched through the city alongside merchants bearing supplies fir the Shaper army. Even so, the atmosphere was surprisingly quiet and tense; the people were active, purposeful, and afraid. Drassia got a lot of nervous glances as she passed through. Above the city, to the west, Drassia could see Stormhold, the massive stone fortress that had housed the chieftain of all the tribes of the Storm Plains. Now it was the residence of the commander of all the Shaper forces in the Storm Plains: General Alwan.

As Drassia wondered exactly how she was going to get permission to get into Stormhold to carry out her assigned task, a tall woman wearing a guard commander’s insignia came up to her, not looking happy. “You there, stop,” she said, pointing at Drassia. “I am Commander Illyara, of the Perikalia garrison. Your papers. Now.”

Drassia showed them to her. She inspected them and handed them back to Drassia. “As I thought. I was asked to look for you. I have an important message.”

“What’s your message?” asked Drassia.

“I have received word directly from General Alwan, in Stormhold. He mentioned you by name.” The hint of envy in Illyara’s voice was clear. “You are to go see him in Stormhold. Personally. Immediately. That is the message. I add that, if you have angered him in some way, you should face your punishment now and not infuriate him further. I have seen the effects of the general’s rage. It is best avoided.”

“I will go see him, then,” Drassia said, hoping that Alwan was not, in fact, angry with her. She couldn’t see why he would be, but there was a lot she didn’t know. At the very least, she hoped, she would be able to get access, with or without Alwan’s permission, to go where Rawal wanted her to.

Illyara nodded. “A wise choice. Whatever your opinions of the Shapers, the attention of their leaders generally leads to great preferment. Since you seem significant, I will not have Alwan think that I withheld information from you. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

“No, that’s all. Good day,” replied Drassia.

Illyara said, “Safe travels to you. Remember, faith in the Shapers will be rewarded,” and left. Drassia watched after her, thinking that even though some of the outsiders that the Shapers chose to communicate their will to the rest of the world had become somewhat more careful and reasonable in their dealings with others in this time of war, this woman was clearly still convinced that the Shapers were always in the right. She shook her head. It did no good to think about random things like that; she had a general to see and a very valuable item to steal. She headed up to Stormhold, uncertain as to what awaited her there.

 

* * *

 

Stormhold was an odd mix of Shaper and ancient architecture; most of the buildings Drassia could see were definitely Shaper work, but there were occasional traces of something far older. Normally, the place would be quiet and imposing: Several large buildings surrounded by tranquil grounds. However, the large encampment of Shaper soldiers on said grounds ruined the effect. Drassia supposed they must be there to protect General Alwan in case of rebel attack.

She asked directions from a suspicious soldier and found that General Alwan could be found in the large building to the northwest. Drassia thanked him and went there. She walked through the foyer and into the throne room of General Alwan, leader of the Storm Plains, member of the Shaper Council, war hero, and scourge of the rebels.

She was stunned by what she saw.

Alwan’s body had been shattered. His skin was covered in burns. One of his arms was sickeningly emaciated. His head lolled to one side. He was kept standing upright by a metal framework inside a runic circle by the north wall. Crystal power conduits crossed the floor around him. Two of them actually entered his body to sustain him with energy.

Alwan saw Drassia and lifted his head, letting out a gurgle. “Ghahh... you there. Yes.” He weakly waved her forward. “I have waited for you. Come and speak. Don’t be afraid. If you obey our laws, I have no problem with you.”

Drassia walked slowly forward, wondering just what the hell had happened to Alwan. He motioned her to sit on one of the benches next to him. Drassia noticed that the smell wasn’t as bad as she might have expected; mainly ozone with a hint of smoke. Alwan inspected her. Drassia was surprised to see that he looked upon her with neither disdain nor judgment, but rather with a calm and analytical expression. This, she thought, was a man who had learned in his travels that you could never be sure about anyone: loyalist, rebel, good, evil, none of the above... all were possible in everyone. He said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I have summoned you. I have received a very unusual message from the enemy.

“As you may know, it was my leadership that stopped the rebel advance. My forces pushed the rebel army back past the range of mountains to east and rebuilt a line of three fortresses to keep them there. Now we are in a stalemate. We are on this side of the Line. The drakons are on the other. Our creations savage each other in the wild lands between. That is where things have been for months, each side looking for an advantage. Then I received the message. It is from Ghaldring, the beast that leads the drakons. From Gazaki-Uss, their fortress at the eastern edge of contested territory. He sent it with a servile to Fort Defiance.” He let out a short, gurgling laugh. “Fortunately, the servile was not killed on sight. It invites us to send an envoy to Gazaki-Uss to negotiate certain details. But that’s the interesting part: the invitation is extended to one person — you.”

Drassia blinked. “You’re sure it’s me they want?”

“Their description of you was so precise, it was as if the person who wrote it knew you personally.” Alwan smiled. “Met any spies lately?”

Off the top of her head, Drassia could think of two, Mehken and Greta, but she didn’t tell Alwan that. “How did they know about me?”

“That is a good question,” Alwan said. “It’s not because you’re a spy for them — they would never call attention to such a person like that. Perhaps they heard a tale of your travels, or perhaps a spy of theirs met you and carried your name to them.”

“What, then, do you want from me?” asked Drassia.

“I want you to do your duty to the Shapers. I will let you cross the line. I will give you what you need to cross the ravaged lands beyond safely. You will meet with the drakons. You will hear what they have to say. You will return with their message — and you will return with information about Gazaki-Uss. How big it is. How many troops. What it seems to be for. Who is there. That is what I require, and you will be very, very well paid for quality intelligence. You are also welcome to any treasure or training you can wheedle out of the drakons while you are there.” Alwan made a little motion with his hand. A servant brought him a goblet of wine; he took it and drank deeply.

Drassia thought, then shook her head. “I will not be your spy.”

Alwan shrugged. It looked painful. “And I will not compel you, though I could. I could bind you, throw you over the Line, and have you executed if you returned without information. I will not. I can use allies, even unusual ones. Return if you change your mind.” He snapped his fingers. A servant brought him an amulet. “However, I would like to hear what the drakons have to say, if only to know what sort of lies they are inclined to tell.” He gave the amulet to Drassia. “That will preserve you in the wastes.” He looked at Drassia closely. Something was bothering him.

“What’s wrong?” Drassia asked.

For a moment, Alwan got distracted. Drassia sensed that this was not a common occurrence. “You look... you look similar to someone I...” He shook his head. “No. Just similar.” He struggled to concentrate again.

Drassia asked, “You know me?”

Alwan finally regained his composure. “I have met many people in my travels. For you to resemble one of them is only to be expected.”

Drassia muttered under her breath, “That’s almost the same thing Greta said.”

She hadn’t intended for Alwan to hear, but he did. “What did you say?”

“Oh, I... recently met a woman named Greta who responded to that question almost the same way you did,” said Drassia, slightly confused.

“Was this Greta in her late twenties, walking with a slight limp, with short brown hair?” asked Alwan.

“Yes, she was,” said Drassia. “Do you know her?”

“Oh, yes. I know her,” Alwan said. “Let me tell you my story. You will see how she fits into it.

“I was a student of Shaping on the Ashen Isles when the rebellion began. I traveled with two others: Greta, and... another, who led our little group. I will not say his name. I left them after they... did something very illegal. I fought the enemy there until I saw the cause was lost. Then I found my way to the mainland and joined up with the Shaper army. I excelled. I rose through the ranks in eastern Terrestia, marking each new promotion with a fresh slaughter of rebels and rogues. I ascended to my current rank swiftly, aided by the frequent and tragic deaths of my superiors. And then... I gained information about the Unbound being completed in a mountain fortress of the drakons. I led a raid there, assisted by an Agent named Miranda, a true hero for the Shapers. We began our assault with waves of creations, but these were defeated. So we attacked in person. Greta was there. We fought, she and I. She won, thinking me dead. I heard the other human rebel there saying that he was unsure that completing the Unbound would be the best course of action, but that he saw no better one. I saw him press the button that completed the Unbound. He, Greta, and the drakons left as the Unbound came out of their Shaping vats. My body was ruined, but I held myself together with sheer power and essence. With my fading power, I made a cryoa. It dragged me to the icy seas. A Guardian on a passing ship sensed me. It was dumb luck that allowed me to live.

“At that point, none doubted my skill or dedication to the Shaper cause. I wanted to die, but High Councilor Shema thought that I could do some good on the Council. He was, as he often is, correct. And now, I have said enough. My babble is a sign of weakness. We should return to more pressing matters. If you need training, go to my sages in the northern building. If you can convince them to train you, I will allow it.”

Drassia simply stood there, amazed. Alwan had been through a lot. She wondered if she had been through as much before she lost her memory. She shook her head to clear it and said, “Thank you. I will leave for Gazaki-Uss tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Drassia looked at the sign at the door in the back of the main hall of Stormhold. It said:

Private. Intruders will be considered spies.

Drassia supposed that was understandable if this was Alwan’s library, as she thought it was. There could be Shaper secrets in here that they didn’t want outsiders to know. Drassia’s task from Rawal was to steal a book containing secrets that the Shapers didn’t want anyone, including each other, knowing: “Canister — Creation and Analysis”. Rawal had told her that the book had been banned by the Shaper Council; no copies had ever been made, and only by a fluke had the original, which Rawal believed now resided in Alwan’s library, escaped destruction. Drassia was certain, as was Rawal, that if Alwan knew that this book was in his possession, he would destroy it himself.

Drassia picked the lock on the door and slipped in, closing the door behind her. It was very quiet; the only sound was that of a guard marching back and forth. Drassia could see the pressure plates in the floor, likely connected to alarms or worse. She quietly told Fang and Spitfire to stay where they were and moved to the first plate, disarming it. She did the same with the second plate and pressed her back against the wall, peeking around the corner and seeing the guard with his back to her. She slipped in and hid behind a bookshelf, looking at the titles of the books. Most of them were bulky tomes on obscure Shaping topics that Drassia thought looked pretty useless. None of them was the book she was looking for. She started to move out from behind the shelf, but stopped as she heard the guard coming back. She hid in a shadow as the guard came past the shelf and silently slipped around while his back was turned. She held her breath as he passed the other way. She glanced at the titles of the books on this side of the shelf. Nothing. She turned to the next shelf and looked at the titles there. She found what she was looking for; the book on canisters looked much newer than any of the others, and it was much thinner, making it easier to get out without being noticed. She slid it into an inside pocket of her robe and got out of the library before anyone saw her there.

 


	13. Gazaki-Uss

Fort Defiance, the northern fort in the Line, was a mix of old and new construction. Some parts of it were decades old. Others had been recently rebuilt or expanded to help defend against the rebel advance. Now it was an imposing fortification, its thick, granite walls well-defended. The place was a testament to General Alwan’s brilliance and determination. Drassia suspected that her reception would be unfriendly at best, at least until she showed the commanding officer the amulet Alwan had given her. She walked in past a pair of turrets and saw an unusual sight: a pack of large battle creations standing in a circle and staring inward at a huge, glowing crystal that seemed to have a hypnotic effect on them. It was probably unique, though if the Shapers ever figured out how to replicate its properties of keeping creations calm and preventing them from wandering off, they would distribute copies all across Terrestia.

As she went north, Drassia could see serviles walking around repairing damage caused by what looked like an explosion and warriors walking around yelling at the serviles. She found the commander’s office and entered, finding that it was run by an outsider, flipping through reports and seemingly unconcerned by the rogues that Drassia could hear howling outside the east wall. The fact that the fort was run by an outsider wasn’t very surprising; there weren’t enough Shapers to occupy every position of importance. Of course, this meant that this woman couldn’t give orders to any Shaper that came through, but Drassia was no Shaper, and this woman knew it. Her lip curled up in distaste. “I am Commander Beloy. I decide who can be here and who can’t. I don’t know you. Unless you have permission to be here, you will have to go.”

Drassia said, “I received an amulet from General Alwan.” She held it up.

Beloy looked closely at it. “Ah. You’re the one the drakons asked for. I suppose you can pass through here, though don’t expect any trust from me. I will make sure that the east gates open for you.”

Drassia muttered under her breath, “I don’t expect trust from much of anyone these days.” Aloud, she said, “Is there anything I should know about the lands to the east?”

Beloy laughed. “They are full of creations, Shaper and rebel, constantly killing each other. I think you will find no difference in how they treat you. That amulet might protect you, once you get a ways from the fort, but don’t put too much trust in trinkets.”

“Any advice for me?” asked Drassia.

“Stay close to the road. That’s where the freshest, meaning most sane and therefore most likely to recognize the amulet, creations are.”

“Thank you,” said Drassia, and left. Beloy simply turned back to reading her reports.

Drassia went to the east gates and passed through a chamber that had four turrets in it out into a clearing that was ravaged by many battles and crisscrossed with the tracks of many creations, constantly trying to find weaknesses in the walls of the fort. It looked like they followed patrols; if Drassia wanted to cross peacefully, it looked like she would have to avoid these patrols. She walked out of the fort and veered off to the left to avoid a group of large kyshakks, continuing on to the wastes between her and Gazaki-Uss.

 

* * *

 

The wastes east of Fort Defiance were the northern front of the war between the forces of General Alwan and those of the rebels. Once, the rebels had pushed through the Line, but Alwan’s forces had pushed them back to here. The wastes were higher than the Storm Plains; the air was cold and crisp, even past the omnipresent smell of smoke and rot. Everywhere Drassia looked, she could see the signs of battle. Scorched earth. Bones picked clean. The tracks of rogue creations looking for food. It was a grim, blasted land, unfit for habitation by civilized beings. Drassia could just make huge stone pillars and structures miles to the southeast. That, she thought, must have been Gazaki-Uss. But there was a long journey ahead of her, and there were plenty of rogues. Perhaps she could avoid some of them.

Remembering what Commander Beloy had told her, Drassia stuck to the road. Not far down it, she came upon a pack of kyshakks that approached her and waited for her to identify herself. She pulled out her amulet and showed it to them. Somewhere in their minds, they remembered an instruction to let the holder of this amulet pass. They kept going on their patrol.

Drassia continued on this way for miles, showing her amulet to the creations on the road and avoiding the ones that occasionally came close to the road from elsewhere, until she came around a bend in the canyon the road had gone into and saw the massive stone walls of Gazaki-Uss. Between her and the city were outbuildings and fields growing crops, though Drassia knew there weren’t enough plants there to feed a city that size. The rest of them must have been grown on the other side of the city, in rebel lands. Drassia could also see battle creations standing in long, neat lines, ready to defend the city. She would have to get closer to see more.

She walked along the outside of the moat surrounding Gazaki-Uss to a bridge. After she crossed it she could see more. To the northeast was a servile encampment; to the southeast, a large dome from which the sounds of forging and magic rang. The creations she had seen from a distance were, indeed, battle creations, standing calmly in lines to defend the city from attack. Thankfully, it seemed they didn’t want to attack Drassia. She passed by them and walked through the open gates into Gazaki-Uss.

The city was massive, almost overpowering. Only frequent exposure to the mighty cities of the Shapers kept Drassia from being filled with awe. It was hot in there. The drakons must have liked it; the place felt like a humid inferno. All the drakons Drassia could see (and there were plenty of them) seemed comfortable. All of the humans and serviles she could see looked miserable. She could also see that this was recent construction. The huge stone blocks that made up the walls lacked the moss and wear that came from centuries of use. This city had been built to be a command center. Drassia was in the heart of the rebellion. The might of the drakons was almost tangible.

There was a young servile waiting for her just inside the gates. He had sharp eyes, an easy smile, and an aura of self-confidence, all of which marked him as having been born and raised outside of Shaper control. He said, “Hello, Drassia. I am Learned Plo. I have been told to greet you when you enter and lead you to Ghaldring. Please follow me.”

“Lead on,” said Drassia.

“Our leader awaits,” Plo said, and headed east. Drassia followed him to a door, where he stopped and said, “Ghaldring is just past here.” The door opened, and Drassia stepped through into Ghaldring’s hall.

Ghaldring awaited her in the center. He was one of the oldest drakons, and almost certainly the most powerful. He had been Shaped many, many times. He was nearly eleven feet tall where most of his kind could claim eight or nine. His scales were smooth and flawless, almost seeming to gleam. His cold eyes betrayed no emotion Drassia recognized. He was surrounded by a ring of defensive pylons; if this was a trap and he meant Drassia ill, she had little chance of surviving the encounter. She was completely at his mercy.

When he saw her, he smiled, displaying two rows of razor-sharp teeth. When he spoke, his voice was so deep and loud that Drassia could feel it in her chest. “You made it. At last. I have been curious. Step forward. Let me evaluate you.”

Drassia approached Ghaldring. As she did, she started to feel faint. The drakon was so huge and charged with power that the urge to cower and snivel was almost overpowering. Almost. Drassia had learned, as the Shapers had, that projecting a little power did wonders for terrifying outsiders. She stood up tall and ignored it as best she could, letting none of her fear show on her face.

Ghaldring inspected her: her bearing, her creations, her equipment. He nodded. “So this is the toy the Shapers have been squabbling over. But not a toy. A tool. And a useful one. I am Ghaldring, mightiest of the drakons, master of the rebellion, lord of Gazaki-Uss, and I have summoned you here.”

“Why is that?” asked Drassia.

“I wanted to send a message to General Alwan. And, since I had heard about you, I requested that you come fetch it. I wanted to see what the fuss was about. Two purposes in one act.” Drassia watched Ghaldring closely, trying to determine his true purpose for her. The drakon’s eyes betrayed nothing.

“How did you hear about me?” Drassia asked.

“A powerful, unidentified Shaper, coming out of nowhere and acting as an unallied agent? This attracts gossip. We have learned, time and again, that even a single Shaper can have a great effect on the world.”

“What is the message?” asked Drassia.

Ghaldring ignored the question entirely. He looked at one of the defensive pylons and said absent-mindedly, “And there has been a lot of gossip. Rumors. I am curious. You have had time to wander Terrestia. To rebuild some of your psyche.” How the hell did he know about that? Drassia thought. “To judge what you have seen. Where do your sympathies fall? With the Shapers or the rebels?”

“I have come to sympathize with the rebels,” Drassia said.

“Many Shapers have. When they looked at the world with fresh eyes, they saw that the world they had created was one they did not want to live in. I wondered if you would be able to see the justice of our cause. And, now that I see you do...” Ghaldring trailed off. He was considering something.

“What is it?” asked Drassia.

“I have come to a decision. Alas, you must stay with us for a while longer.” Drassia noticed that Ghaldring’s voice was crisp, without even a trace of the lisp that most drayks and drakons had. He also seemed far less arrogant and bloodthirsty than many described him as being. And yet...

“I apologize, but the message is not ready yet. It will be soon. We have guest quarters that will be far more comfortable for you.” He waved to the northwest. “Go there. Return tomorrow. I will be ready to speak with you then.”

“All right,” Drassia said, and left. Ghaldring said nothing, lost in thought.

Drassia had some time to kill before she wanted to get some sleep, so she went to look around at Gazaki-Uss. She saw a merchant hawking his wares, proudly proclaiming to anyone who would listen that he could smuggle anything anywhere. She found a small barracks for visiting rebel soldiers. Though the quarters were humble, there was a full general sitting there, eating a bowl of stew. She looked very familiar, though Drassia couldn’t quite remember where they had met. She asked, “Do I know you, general?”

The general looked up at Drassia, searching her memory. She nodded. “Yes. We met in Penta. I am General Greta of the rebellion. Have a seat. I could use some company before I return to battle.”

Drassia sat down across from Greta. “I’m here to see Ghaldring. He’s already talked to me and told me to stay the night.”

The general nodded. “So I’ve heard. I would be on your guard around him, as he is dangerous and unpredictable. I don’t fully understand why he’s brought you here. Be careful.” She took a bite of her stew. “I’ve been waiting here for days to talk to him. He knows it, too, but His Arrogancy keeps wasting my time. Perhaps it’s just as well. I have to leave soon to take care of certain matters, and we would probably only argue anyway.” She stood up and stretched. “Now, I’m going to go talk to that hateful creature Learned Plo and see if I can get him to let me in to see the giant lizard. He’ll probably just stonewall me again, but it can’t hurt to try.” She walked out of the barracks. Moments later, Drassia heard Greta and Plo shouting at each other from the door to Ghaldring’s hall. Listening to some of the names Greta was calling Plo, Drassia tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. She walked out of the barracks, listening to the exchange between Greta and Plo, and headed for the guest quarters.

The guest quarters were cooler than the rest of the city. Someone had made a crude attempt to make a garden, and there were smooth, dark pools for meditation. This was a rare concession for the drakons. Drassia noticed that it was very quiet. She must have been the only visitor there at the time.

She made her way to one of the meditation pools, sat down, and stared into it, allowing herself to relax. She let the tension leak out of her body as she gazed at her reflection. Her expression seemed to her to belong to one who had been through a lot in a short span of time. Her hair was windblown, as she had walked through miles of desert to get here. She sighed and got up to go find her sleeping quarters. She found them in a small stone quarter-dome in the northwest corner of the cavern. It looked comfortable enough, but Drassia knew she would have to be on her guard. All the same, she entered it and went to sleep, Fang and Spitfire next to her.

 

* * *

 

Drassia was awakened by... not a sound. A sense. There were creations here. Powerful ones, that hadn’t been there when she had gone to sleep. She quietly put on her armor, getting ready to surreptitiously check the situation out, but she heard a shout: “Drassia! Come out now! Ghaldring demands that you face me!” It sounded like a drakon. So much for subtlety.

Drassia walked out into the center of the guest quarters and found an old drakon, wearing the scars of many battles and flanked by a pair of kyshakks. The drakon said, “I am Khressia. I have asked Ghaldring to be able to challenge you. He has agreed.”

“What sort of challenge?” asked Drassia.

Khressia hissed. “A battle, if you do not yield. I will kill you, or you will kill me. If you win, you live to see Ghaldring. If I win, I devour you and add your wealth to my hoard.”

“So how does this proceed?”

“First, I give you the chance to yield to me. If you do, all will see that I have humbled the envoy of the Shapers. Glory for me! Humiliation for your kind. So, will you save your life by admitting that drakonsss are superior to your kind?”

“I will say no such thing,” said Drassia.

Khressia nodded. “Ghaldring told me you would not be so weak when he urged me to this challenge.” As he spoke, Drassia heard footsteps. People, probably serviles, were sneaking into position all around her. They were trying to be quiet, but she could hear the jingling of their chainmail. “There will be no more formalitiesss. Now we fight. I give you a moment for any final words or prayers.”

Drassia chuckled. “If you’re so mighty, why do you feel the need to sneak in allies to keep you alive?”

Khressia looked furious. He also knew that Drassia was right. He said, “Leave us. I do not need your help with this puny creature.” Drassia heard the hidden serviles move away.

“Now... I believe I heard you say that Ghaldring urged you to challenge me?” Drassia asked.

Khressia was clearly not expecting that. “What... why do you ask?”

“Oh, just wondering. Surprised it wasn’t your idea, that’s all.”

“It wasss my idea!” Khressia roared. “Ghaldring wasss ignoring my wisdom before the Conclave, as alwaysss, and I told him that one of my strength and glory should not be ignored so! He asked me how I had proven my strength, and I recounted to him the many battles I had fought and won, and he said it was not enough, in his eyesss! I told him I could think of no way to add to my victories over the Shapersss...”

“And he suggested fighting me,” Drassia completed.

“To test you. I was the one who said I would kill you. And I shall!”

“Ordinarily,” Drassia said, “I might keep trying to talk you out of fighting me... but I haven’t killed anything all day, so I’m feeling rather bloodthirsty right now.” She manufactured a nasty grin and, with one sweeping motion of her arms, created five corrupted thahds, a variant that decayed over time, but was stronger and oozed acid. “Let’s fight,” she said, cast a spell to regenerate her thahds over time so that they would last longer, and attacked Khressia.

Three of the corrupted thahds and Spitfire attacked one kyshakk. The other two thahds and Fang attacked the other, leaving Drassia and Khressia to fight without interference. Drassia tested Khressia with an overhand swing. Khressia stepped back, allowing the swing to pass harmlessly in front of him, and flung fire at Drassia. She rolled to the side and sprayed acid at him. He dodged and leaped in close to claw at her face, three feet below his own. She ducked between his legs and spun around, swinging at his back. He was just barely too slow to avoid the swing; it left a long, shallow slice along his back.

Drassia smiled. “First blood.”

Khressia snarled and flung fire at Drassia again. She caught it on her shield and fired back some ice at his head. He snapped his head to one side to avoid it and charged Drassia again. She jumped aside and smashed her shield into his back, knocking him down. She stabbed downward at his head, but he rolled out of the way and jumped back up. Drassia fired a spell at him, but he jumped out of the way. The spell hit a wall and exploded, leaving a hole that would have fit a six-foot-tall human.

Drassia and Khressia both stared at the hole for a moment. Drassia recovered first and leaped at Khressia, grabbing his head and slamming it into the part of the wall right above the hole. The wall, already weakened by Drassia’s blast, gave way. Khressia fell heavily on the ground outside the guest quarters. Drassia waited to see if he would get up. To her astonishment, he did, though slowly. She said, “Wow. No wonder I couldn’t get you to see reason if your head is that thick.”

Khressia snarled again, though he seemed a bit woozy. “You... have not won yet!” He charged blindly at Drassia. This time she didn’t dodge; she simply stuck out her sword and let his momentum ram it firmly into his heart. He stared at her for a moment before she pulled it out.

Khressia collapsed, thick blood oozing from his wounds. As he stared up at the ceiling, he whispered, “Salassar... I wasss a fool... I...” And then he died. Drassia had defeated her challenger, but she was left with a feeling that Ghaldring did not have her best interests at heart... if he even had a heart.

She went to the door to Ghaldring’s hall, but when she got there, it didn’t open. Learned Plo approached her and said, “Pardon me. I know that Ghaldring said you would return. However, the master is busy today. You will have to return tomorrow, or perhaps later. I apologize, but there is nothing that can be done.”

Drassia looked at him. She was fairly sure that statement wasn’t true, but there was no way to prove it. She shrugged and went back to the guest quarters, planning to find another way in besides the front door.

She found a door in the guest quarters that led to the east. It opened at her approach into a chamber that had two other exits. One of them, if the obelisk by it was to be believed, led to the laboratories of Gazaki-Uss. Drassia didn’t think that Ghaldring would appreciate her being in there, but then again, she hadn’t exactly appreciated his sending a drakon to kill her. She told Fang and Spitfire to stay where they were and slipped into the labs.

She stood in a hallway with two forks leading off of it, one to the north, the other to the south. She picked the southern one and slipped down it, avoiding a servile technician who was going to get something or other, and found a larger laboratory. What she saw in there was an unpleasant surprise.

There were two Shaping platforms in the lab, each surrounded by powerful machinery. The air crackled with concentrated magic. A lesser being wouldn’t have been able to stand being there. Drassia found it invigorating. Each platform had a motionless Unbound standing on it. A nearby table was covered with notes and sketches. The drakons in Gazaki-Uss weren’t making Unbound, they were studying them. Drassia could think of only one reason that the drakons would be doing this: to create the next generation of Unbound, ones even more powerful and crazed. The Shapers would pay dearly to have that sort of information.

There was a drakon walking around in the lab, barking orders to the technicians. Drassia waited until all of their backs were turned, then slipped across the lab, taking a few sheets of notes on the Unbound that she hoped wouldn’t be missed on the way. She found a door leading out of the labs and slipped out. She checked to see what was around and, looking south, saw Ghaldring himself, lost in thought. She boldly walked up to him and said, “Khressia is now suffering from a case of chronic deadness.”

Ghaldring seemed unsurprised to see her. He was just as pleasant as he had been the day before. Nothing in his mood reflected that he had just sent someone to try to kill her, that she had caused a significant amount of damage to his city in defending herself, or that she had come in from his restricted laboratories. “And the guest quarters have a hole in the wall. The test has been survived. Interesting. The qualities were described accurately to me. There is a lot of skill here.” He was describing her as if she was a lab specimen, his eyes as cold as ever. “But, I would be sure. One more test, I think. A simple, straightforward battle. I want to see your performance personally.” He began to call and Shape essence in front of him.

“Test me if you want,” Drassia said, “but I will remember this insult.”

Ghaldring stopped. “Yes... Yessss...” Drassia noted that his drakon sibilance had returned. Interesting. “The command... You have the command of a Shaper. Very interesting. Very useful. And I believe you. I will consider you tested. Give me a moment, and then we have things to discussss...” He reabsorbed the essence he had been about to Shape. “I think that I have had a chance to gauge your merit. I understand you better now. Now I can deal with you. I am ready to give you the message for Alwan.” As Ghaldring spoke, Drassia was constantly on her guard. She had no idea of he was about to test her again. _Everyone in Gazaki-Uss must feel like this all the time,_ she realized.

“What is the message?” she asked.

“That there has been enough suffering in Terrestia. We drakons are not insensitive to the plight of lesser beings on both sides of the conflict. We call for a five-year ceasefire. Cities can be rebuilt, food can be regrown, people can recover. Then both sides can come together and decide if the war needs to continue. That is the heart of my offer. Diplomats can get together and argue about the details later. You can take my words back to Alwan, though not immediately. I would spend some time talking to you. You are an intriguing creature. I thought, when I summoned you, that I might be able to turn you over to our cause. Now you can speak freely.”

“Why did you send Khressia to kill me?” Drassia asked.

“I wanted to gauge your strength and eliminate a pest,” Ghaldring said. “I achieve two goals with one action. The efficiency of it was irresistible.”

“What made Khressia such a pest?”

“He disagreed with me. Multiple times. Challenging me once shows spirit. More than that, and you are interfering with the war against the Shapers.”

“I see,” said Drassia. She was fairly sure that Ghaldring was only telling her part of the truth. “I will go deliver your message to Alwan.” She turned and left, going to the guest quarters and retrieving Fang and Spitfire, only a little bit surprised to see that the hole had already been repaired, before leaving Gazaki-Uss.

 

* * *

 

It struck Drassia, as she stood before General Alwan back in Stormhold, how painful his existence must be. He could never sit within the metal framework that held him up. The two conduits that entered his thighs to feed him energy and essence directly couldn’t feel good, either. While she knew his dedication must help him go on, she suspected that wine played a large part in it, too.

Alwan leaned forward as much as he could when he saw Drassia. “You have returned from Gazaki-Uss. What did Ghaldring say?”

Drassia told him. He shook his head. “He does not want peace. He wants five years to experiment, to create a newer, stronger type of Unbound.” Drassia could feel the notes on the Unbound research in her pocket. “And he wants to show the world that Shaper rule is not lasting. A useless offer. I would reject it coming from a human or a servile. Coming from a drakon, I trust it even less. Now... have you changed your mind on whether or not to give me information on Gazaki-Uss?”

Drassia looked down as she thought. She did still sympathize with the rebels, but, after the incident with Khressia, she was fairly sure that Ghaldring was fighting not for the ideal of equality between human and creation, but for the expansion of his own power. And she did think it was Ghaldring’s power, rather than that of all the drakons. She lifted her head again and said, “Yes, I have.” She described Gazaki-Uss as honestly as she could, omitting nothing, including what she had seen of the drakons’ laboratories and showing Alwan the notes she had taken off the table in the lab. A servile took notes on her information.

When she finished, Alwan nodded, looking pleased. “I told you we knew nothing about Gazaki-Uss. This was not entirely true. We did know a little, and what you have said corresponds with it. The Shapers reward those who aid them properly.” He snapped his fingers. A servant brought Drassia a large bag of coins, an enchanted belt, and two shining gemstones. “You have made an ally in me this day. I could do much with a servant like you. If you, with my help, continue to aid the Shapers, you can go very far.”

Drassia said, “I will keep that in mind in my travels.” She left Alwan’s hall, heading north for the Whitespires to deliver a certain book to Councilor Rawal.

 


	14. The Workshop

The fields south of Perikalia were covered in fruit trees, ones Shaped to give fruit year round. Their bounty lay rotting on the ground, as there were no pickers to harvest the fruit. The trees were rapidly expanding past their bounds, and bands of soldiers patrolled the roads. This was the only way to get from the Storm Plains to the Dera Reaches unless one had a boat, and Drassia didn’t. Almost nobody did. When she had gotten the pass from General Alwan to travel to the Dera Reaches, he had referred to the leader of that province as “that madman Taygen.” When Rawal had given her the next task he wanted done, he had said that he’d heard rumors that Taygen was working on a way to wipe out all creations. Drassia’s task would delay Taygen if the rumors were true while also giving Rawal time to find out if they were, although, as with the tasks in the lands of Councilor Astoria and General Alwan, Rawal had suggested that Drassia not be caught.

A loyalist soldier walked down the road toward Drassia. She seemed surprised to see someone who wasn’t wearing a uniform and stopped her. “Greetings, friend. I am Sergeant Phrynia. You may not be aware that General Alwan has sealed the border between the Storm Plains and the Dera Reaches. Without a written pass from Stormhold, you can’t pass. Go much farther than this, and the soldiers tend to attack on sight. I’d suggest heading back.”

Drassia said, “I have a pass from Alwan’s hand,” and showed it to Phrynia.

Phrynia looked closely at it. “Yes. This is real. It has the proper crude scrawl. Many a forger has died on these paths because their fake pass was too neat. If you keep going south, hold that in front of you. The patrols might not attack you.”

“Thank you,” said Drassia.

“Safe travels to you,” responded Phrynia. “Keep that pass close to hand. The guards to the south have strict orders, and that pass will probably save your life.” She kept going into Perikalia.

Drassia continued south, expecting to find a patrol, but before she got to one, an armed warrior lacking any sort of military insignia stopped her. “I was told to watch for you. And here you are.”

“Who told you to watch for me?” asked Drassia.

“Our common master, Rawal. He told me to deliver you a message: he commands you, and he is not the only one who can twist the command tool against you. Remember that he has work for you. If you don’t, he will bring you to heel.”

“I have not forgotten my duty to Rawal,” said Drassia.

“I will make sure he hears of it. If not, his agents are everywhere, as I have learned. Painfully.” The warrior nodded to Drassia and walked off.

Drassia looked after him. She knew that Rawal was controlling, but she hadn’t thought it was at that level. She shrugged and turned back around to find a sword at her throat.

Two swordsmen, two baton wielders, and a mage all had their weapons pointed at her. Drassia took out her pass and said, “I suppose you want to see this?”

One of them looked at it and nodded, saying to the others, “It’s real. She can pass.” The patrol lowered their weapons and continued on. Drassia blinked. She hadn’t seen anyone that quick to draw their weapons since she’d gotten into the Storm Plains. She kept going south. As she went, she saw several columns of smoke and heard the roars of many creations coming from the south. The guards shouted, “Attackers! Stop them!”

 _Oh, boy,_ Drassia thought.   _This is going to be fun._

As the rogue creations came into view, Drassia could see that they were in three main groups. Two of them were made up of four rotghroths and three artila each. These went off to the sides to engage the soldiers there. The third was different: it had four rotghroths, but instead of artila, it had three icebreath roamers and one cryodrayk. Naturally, that was the group heading directly for Drassia. She blessed herself, Fang and Spitfire, and the guards nearest her before the rogues got there.

The rotghroths came in hard and fast while the roamers and cryodrayk hung back, preferring to attack at range with their icy breath. The two guards wielding swords readied themselves for the rotghroths’ arrival while the baton wielders and the mage moved out so that they could strike from a distance. Drassia and her creations went with them. The rotghroths fell upon the swordsmen, who defended themselves pretty well for each fighting two giant, insane humanoids that oozed acid onto everything they touched. Fang and Spitfire joined the baton wielders and the mage in attacking the rotghroths, but Drassia wanted to give the cryodrayk and the roamers something to think about. She ran out behind the rotghroths and sprayed a cloud of acid onto the icy creations. They roared, and the roamers charged her.

Drassia was concerned by this not at all. As the roamers got to her, she leaped up onto the back of one of the roamers and sliced through it, killing it instantly. She rolled to the ground to evade a blast of ice the cryodrayk sent her way and spun around again to attack the two roamers left. They were to her left and right, and both leaped at her at the same time as the cryodrayk breathed ice at her again from behind. She shield-bashed the one on her left, knocking it out of the air, and sliced the head off the one on her right. She ignored the rest of its body as it hit her and turned her shield to catch the cryodrayk’s ice breath. The one roamer remaining tried to get up, but Drassia drove her sword through it and turned to face the cryodrayk.

It snarled and charged her while breathing ice at the same time. Drassia thought that was progress, since it had stayed in the same spot the whole time she’d been fighting the roamers. She dove to the side and rolled to her feet as the cryodrayk came around for another pass. This time, Drassia jumped up onto its back the same way she had with the first roamer and swung down. However, the cryodrayk reared back, throwing her off and causing what Drassia had intended to be a killing blow to cut only a shallow scratch in the cryodrayk’s back. It roared in pain and turned around as Drassia faceplanted on the grass. She rolled out of the way as it swiped at her with its claws and came up again, striking at its head. It ducked and charged her, ramming its head into her stomach and pushing her back into a tree. Drassia gasped as the air rushed out of her lungs and swung her sword down through the cryodrayk’s neck.

She pushed the cryodrayk’s body off her and looked to her creations. They and the soldiers were just finishing off the last rotghroth. The soldiers formed a tight circle with Fang and Spitfire inside and spun outwards, searching for more rogues. When they saw that Drassia had killed half of the group attacking them, they lowered their weapons. One of them said, awe evident in her voice, “Wow. You did that?”

“I did that,” said Drassia. She motioned to Fang and Spitfire to come with her and continued on to the Dera Reaches.

 

* * *

 

The Dera Reaches were the dry, arid part at the south end of Terrestia. Drassia was confident that she had never been there before; the sense of unfamiliarity she felt was pretty strong. As she traveled, the dust started to irritate her. A lot. A strong, irrational sense of anger rose up in her, the sort that she suspected had plagued her long before she’d lost her memory, the sort that came from being heavily Shaped. She felt like it would be good to have someone to take that rage out on, and lo and behold, there was a platoon of guards blocking the bridge to the south.

One of the guards shouted, “Halt! I am Sergeant Lander, assigned by Sage Taygen himself to watch this bridge.” He walked up to Drassia. “You need my permission to cross, and if you have improperly restrained creations, you aren’t going to get it.”

Perfect. A snide, officious bureaucrat. He wasn’t making it the slightest bit easier for Drassia to control her temper.

“Improperly restrained creations?” Drassia asked, trying to keep the snarl out of her voice.

“We of the Dera Reaches know where our problems have been coming from,” Lander said. “Creations being coddled and improperly trained. Even the old Shaper ways are too soft. Sage Taygen is working to fix that.” The other soldiers nodded.

“You really don’t want to be bothering me right now,” Drassia said.

“Oh! Really! Well, I wouldn’t want to bother you just because you’re some unknown vagrant wandering our roads. Now show me some more manners or you’ll feel my boot in your backside.” The other soldiers snickered.

With a supreme effort of will, Drassia reined in her temper and said, with as much politeness as she could muster, “I would like permission to head south.”

“Well, I’m not sure,” Lander said. “I don’t like the look of your creations. They should be in pens, not wandering around like that. Look at them... There aren’t even any chains on them! They’ll probably have to be put down before you can enter.”

Drassia stared at Lander. The silence became very oppressive. Lander started to look a bit nervous. Finally, Drassia said quietly, “You are going to step aside, or you are going to regret it for about three seconds. If that.”

Lander searched her face. What he saw there told him that Drassia was beyond his ability to handle. He stepped aside, his soldiers doing the same as they saw what he was doing. Drassia walked past them. A tiny part of her brain wondered why her rage was returning and if there was any way she could control it again.

Suddenly, one of the bridge guards shouted an alarm, pointing to the south. There was an Unbound charging straight for the bridge. The guards forgot about Drassia and prepared to defend themselves. Drassia, though, had other ideas. She rushed the Unbound, contemptuously catching its strike on her shield, leaped up, and swung down.

The Unbound fell in two halves, having been neatly bisected by Drassia’s strike. The guards looked at each other. Then, as one, they ran for the gates of the city to the east. Drassia chuckled. Killing the Unbound seemed to have let out her anger, at least for now. She beckoned to Fang and Spitfire and headed for the city.

As she went, she heard the sounds of another attack. There seemed to be a cryodrayk leading a charge on the gates of the city with a few vlish and wingbolts at its back. However, the guards at the gate seemed to have much better discipline than the ones at the bridge. Drassia let them handle it, thinking as she passed by that, sadly, this attack and the Unbound by the bridge were probably completely unrelated. After being in the Storm Plains, this level of rebel activity in Shaper lands came as a bit of a shock. She entered the city under the arch that bore its name: Zephyr Oasis.

The Zephyr Oasis was the capital of the Dera Reaches, a collection of squat sandstone buildings on the south bank of the river separating the Dera Reaches from the Storm Plains. The city had been a waypoint for merchant caravans since long before the Shapers arrived. Now it was Sage Taygen’s seat of power. Although it was a Shaper city, something seemed odd about it. Almost alien. It took Drassia a moment to figure out what it was: there were no creations in sight. No war creations to defend the city. No serviles to act as servants. Drassia could sense them nearby, but they were hidden away. They were probably chained up somewhere. That probably explained why the guards were looking at her nervously, trying to decide whether or not to detain her. They didn’t, for the moment. However, one did approach her. He said, trying to hide his nervousness, “If you want to have unrestrained creations with you, you need to have a license. You can get it from the Shapers in there.” He pointed to a large stone hall. Drassia nodded and went in that direction.

She entered the hall, going through an antechamber and walking into Sage Taygen’s throne room. It was very different from the other throne rooms Drassia had seen. There was no machinery, no creations. Drassia would have bet money that it had looked much like this when it had been built centuries ago. There were two thrones by the north wall. Also unusual. Members of the Shaper Council ruled alone. Sage Taygen sat in one of them, an aging man, probably in his fifties, with a long, scraggly beard and hair going to gray. When Drassia entered, he frowned disapprovingly. “We don’t like to see uncontrolled creations in the Dera Reaches. A few chains would put us much at ease. But I will allow you an audience with me.”

Drassia approached him, examining him more closely. Unlike the other members of the Council, Taygen made no attempt to look imposing or powerful. He slouched in his throne. His beard was unkempt. He barely seemed to be paying attention to what was going on around him. Only the power that Drassia could feel radiating off him made Drassia believe that he was, indeed, a Councilor. He said, “You are in the throne room of Sage Councilor Taygen, that’s me, and Consort Leena.” That must have been who the other throne was for. “I have heard of you. I knew you would come before long. Before you are allowed to travel in my lands, you must know our laws.”

“I’m listening.”

Taygen nodded. “Yes. You may be pleased to know that the Dera Reaches are one of the few places of sanity in all of Terrestia. Only here have we found the clarity needed to deal with all the horrors of the rebellion. It is the increasing independence and intelligence of our creations that has led to the predicament we find ourselves in now. To be sane is to recognize your errors and try to correct them.”

“And how are you doing that?” asked Drassia.

“The Shapers are too lax,” Taygen said. “Our creations must be controlled more strongly. The rebels must not be negotiated with. They must be eradicated. Only then will we be able to rebuild our society properly. And the loyal creations must be kept under strict control, kept simple mentally and under lock and key at all times, in pens or in camps. That is our law. Of course, Shapers and people of import can be given temporary licenses to travel freely with creations.”

“May I have such a license?” asked Drassia.

“You have creations with you. That makes me skeptical. You don’t seem to recognize the danger they pose. However, I would not irritate Rawal by interfering with his agent.” Drassia barely managed to keep from showing the mirth she felt at that; if Taygen had known what she had been sent to do, he would never be consenting to this. Taygen took a piece of paper and scratched out a few words on it, applied a wax seal, and gave it to Drassia. “As long as you are careful, that will enable you to travel the roads. I am sure, when you see how well-controlled our creations are, you will see the wisdom of our ways.”

“We’ll see,” Drassia said, thinking, _I can already hear the insanity of them._

“Now that we’ve settled that business, we can...” Taygen lost his train of thought for a moment. “What business did you have here?”

“Oh, I was just leaving,” said Drassia.

“Well, you have my leave to depart,” replied Taygen. “And remember, the laws of the Shapers will be restored!”

Drassia left.

 

* * *

 

After a steep climb up the foothills east of the Zephyr Oasis, Drassia reached the outer gates of the Dera Purity Workshop. At least, that was what the sign said it was. If her intel was to be believed, this was where she could carry out the mission Rawal had given her. The sounds of hissing and clanging floated over the walls. Whatever was going on in there, it left a foul smell. There was a faint orange haze over everything that made Drassia’s eyes and throat start to burn. As she approached the closed gate, a guard stepped out onto the road.

The guard lifted the visor of her helmet, revealing red, puffy eyes and a strip of wet cloth over her mouth and nose. Drassia made a mental note to get one of those as soon as possible. The guard’s voice was muffled by the cloth, but Drassia could understand her. “I am Sergeant Farivar. The Dera Purity Workshop is closed to visitors, by order of Sage Taygen. You need permission to enter.”

Drassia said, “I am here on Shaper Council business. You must let me in.” She used her imperious, Shaper-like voice as she showed Farivar the pass Rawal had given her.

Farivar was properly cowed. “The Council? I don’t want to anger the Council. If I do, I might never get out of here.” She gave the pass a cursory glance, walked over to the gate, and rapped on it five times. It slowly began to open.

Drassia said, “Thank you,” and walked inside. She hadn’t technically lied to Farivar; she was there on business for Shaper Rawal, who was a member of the Shaper Council, so it could be looked at as Council business.

Inside the gates of the complex, the smell only got worse. There were basins and barrels full of caustic goo everywhere. The workers were mainly serviles with heavy gloves on their hands and wet towels around their mouths. Now that she was inside, Drassia could see what the place was for. Shapers used a lot of metal, tools, and alchemical reagents in their work. These usually had to be purified before use, which required great heat. This was where the Shapers of the Dera Reaches had their materials purified. Of course, Shapers were too high to do this sort of menial labor; that fell to the outsiders and serviles there.

Drassia grabbed a wet towel and put it over her mouth and nose as she made her way past several vats of caustic chemicals to a building on the north side of the complex. She walked past a pair of technicians into a hallway that could probably be closed off in an instant if need be. At the end of the hallway was a door that opened at her approach into a room that had two pools of goo in it. It looked like it was for the mixing of reagents that would allow Shapers to make essence. It wasn’t done from a safe distance; instead, it was controlled by an outsider who stood on a Shaping platform onto which an odd device projected a shield to protect him from the gases that resulted from the mixing. It was obviously horribly dangerous work, but the Shapers required it, so it had to be done.

The alchemist on the platform was controlling everything with gestures that the pipes and valves seemed to respond to. Drassia asked him, “Are you Platano?”

“Yes, I am,” said the alchemist. “Why?”

“I have a message for you from Shaper Rawal,” Drassia said.

Platano frowned. “Shaper Rawal? I have had no dealings with him in the past. What is the message?”

Drassia said, “The message is... oh, what did he say it was?” She pretended to think for a moment. “Oh yeah! It was...” She put out a hand and blew the machine projecting the shield into slag. “ _Die_.”

Platano stumbled. He looked at the bubbling pools and then back at Drassia. He said, “Oh, you crazy bitch. GUARDS!”

Drassia fired a bolt of ice at him. He ducked and summoned a shade to help him. Drassia took it out with a blast of fire and turned back to Platano, who simply summoned another shade. Drassia fired another lance of ice at him and ducked the bolt of energy the shade fired at her. It rushed at her; she swung straight through it with her sword, dissipating it. Platano looked like he was about to attack her or summon another shade, but the pools started to explode into the air, hurting him badly and covering him with acid. Drassia got out of the room quickly, ignoring Platano’s screams as the acid ate him alive, and rushed out of the room to find the two technicians she’d passed on the way in confronting her.

They both raised their hands to blast flame at Drassia, but she dodged their attack, moving so that she and the technicians were all in one line. She kicked one of them back into the other; while they were stumbling, she rushed forward and rammed her sword straight through both of their hearts. She pushed their bodies off the blade and ran out of the hall.

The entire workforce of the purity workshop was standing outside waiting for her: the serviles, the guards, ten rotghroths, and twelve wingbolts. When they saw her, one of the guards pointed at her and shouted a charge. Every last one of them rushed her. Drassia simply smiled, raised her hands, and blasted them all with a sustained gout of flame.

 


	15. The Haven

“Platano, along with everyone else at the Dera Purity Workshop, is dead,” Drassia told Rawal. “It turns out that the rumors are true — Taygen really is trying to find a way to destroy all creations.”

Rawal rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. This means anything we do to hinder Taygen will be profitable. You are truly a marvelous servant. You will be, I think, an invaluable tool in the struggles to come. I have a marvelous plan for you, but first, your reward.” Rawal touched Drassia’s forehead. She felt herself frozen in place as he searched for the modifications. Finally, he said, “Interesting.” Drassia felt a surge of energy, and she suddenly felt stronger and surer on her feet. Rawal also gave her a small vial filled with glowing essence. “You have done well. I have one final task for you.”

“What is it?” asked Drassia.

Rawal said, “I have ambition, and I have enemies. I need a protector. You will stay here in the mountains with me. Protect me. Spy on visitors. Do my will. You will see how well I can reward you. Truly, you will be the envy of all. Many die trying to gain a member of the Council as their patron. If you feel it would serve my interests, you may even leave these mountains from time to time. What say you? Are you ready to join me, to benefit from my greatly increasing power?”

Drassia blinked. That hadn’t been what she had expected. “I... will consider it.”

Rawal frowned. “Consider quickly. The war rages, and my patience is short. I would rather not hurry your decision with the help of my little friend in your chest, but I will if I have to.”

Drassia got the feeling that she was going to have to find someone else to take her in if she wished to avoid this. She said, “I have to go while I think about this.” She turned and left.

 

* * *

 

Drassia walked into a part of the Okavano swamps that was east of any place she had been to before. She had heard that the Trakovites were here, and she wanted to hear what they had to say before she made her decision on which faction to support. She saw a large rebel camp right in front of an enormous stone wall. Not only were there dozens of defenders, but she could see the huge, glowing forms of several Unbound chained to the wall. They were passive at the moment, apparently not having received the command that turned them into relentless killing machines. Of course, as she approached the camp, the guards saw her. They didn’t attack, but they sent out a scout to talk to her. The scout looked pretty nervous.

He approached her slowly, holding a baton in his hand. Judging by the look on his face, he knew that if Drassia decided she wanted to kill him, the baton wouldn’t be much of a help. He said, “I am Preya. I mean you no harm. I’ve been sent to warn you away from trying to pass the barrier. We don’t want to kill you if we don’t have to. Just stay on this side of the stone posts,” he indicated a line of stone posts, “and we won’t have to fight. Cross them, and we’ve got a problem.”

“What’s in there?” Drassia asked, pointing north to a huge stone spire.

“Just some eccentrics, we’re told. They come out in the middle of the night sometimes, but they don’t try to cross the barrier, so we don’t do anything about them. I guess they just cause more trouble for the Shapers that way.”

Drassia nodded. That sounded like it could be a base of operations for the Trakovites. “Thanks for the information,” she said, and headed for the spire.

 

* * *

 

When she stepped into a tunnel at the base of the spire, Drassia was immediately confronted with a chain of mines and a pair of turrets just beyond. The Trakovites, if they were indeed the occupants of this spire, were prepared for an attack. However, the antennae of the mine triggers were still, and the turrets were dormant. The Trakovites didn’t seem to consider her a threat, though Drassia thought that she was probably being watched. She continued on past more mines and turrets, finding some kyshakks and wingbolts wandering around. They were well fed and cared for, which meant that they were peaceful even though they were outside the direct control of a Shaper. She kept going past some deactivated traps and heavy (though open) stone doors and walked into what looked like a living area. There was a firepit, a few rows of sleeping pallets, and some other attempts to make the dank cavern seem like a home. There were also several armed men and women, human and servile, watching Drassia nervously. She said, “Where is this?”

One of the men said, “Just hold on a moment. Someone’s coming.” He looked nervously to the south.

A woman entered the chamber from the south. She looked young, but she had premature streaks of gray in her hair. A pair of daggers hung from her belt, though Drassia suspected that she didn’t really know how to use them. She gave Drassia a little nod and said, noting her sword and armor, “I am Caretaker Eloise. I welcome you to the Trakovite Haven. Our leader has given word that you are to be allowed in. She wishes to speak with you. Our kind has been hunted much over the past few years. We take a risk whenever we allow a new person to find us. We hope that you are not going to take advantage of our welcome with violence.”

“I am here to learn more about the Trakovites,” said Drassia.

“I am very pleased to hear that. You can learn from our leader, in the hall to the southeast. She’s very interested in seeing you.”

Drassia nodded, said, “Thank you,” and went southeast.

When she got to the hall described to her by Caretaker Eloise, Drassia saw a woman sitting at the head of a table. Meeting her eyes was an odd experience. Drassia couldn’t just see this woman, she could sense her as well. Clearly, she had been modified in the same way Drassia had. Her face had the same cold, ageless quality, her eyes the same faint glow. She watched Drassia with great interest. Drassia couldn’t tell if the woman recognized her or just saw a kindred spirit. When she spoke, her voice was calm and confident. This woman was used to having her orders followed. “I am Litalia. Once of the Shapers. Then of the rebels. And now I will raise the Trakovites from this low place. I have allowed you to find us and come to me because I want to take the risk so many others have. I want to try to recruit this new, mysterious Shaper. Or lifecrafter, if you prefer. Come. Sit. I would tell you more of us.”

Drassia took a seat and said, “Tell me more. Who are you?”

“I am Litalia. Once, I was Shaper Litalia. A good, loyal Shaper. Young. Unthinking. Following the rules. Making the required hordes. I had promise. Thus, I was given an important mission. I traveled to a village called Drypeak, in the mountains to the south. A rogue Shaper was making new, unauthorized creations, and the previous Shaper sent to deal with the situation had failed. My job was to purge the mountains, destroying anything that was even remotely rogue. It was there that I first met drayks and drakons. I had traveled through the mountains, slaughtering as I went. It was my first time killing for the Shapers. It unsettled me. Then, in the highest peaks, I led an assault on an uncontrolled underground lair. It was there that I first met Ghaldring, the same drakon that leads the rebellion now. Unlike his servants, he did not attack me. He simply deflected my attacks and spoke. He found me in a moment of weakness. Of doubt. His ideas, his hatred of Shaper law, his desire for freedom, it spoke to me. And, I do confess, his offer of great power was also welcome.” Litalia lifted a hand and looked at it, the waxy skin, the power within that always seemed to want to leap forth. “The promise of power was kept. So I disappeared. I helped him escape and we fled the Shapers.”

“Was it really that easy?” asked Drassia.

“It was. It was a remote land, and only my creations were around. I had to kill no Shapers that day.”

“So you joined the rebellion,” Drassia said.

“Joined it? We started it!” said Litalia. “With some difficulty, we went to the Ashen Isles. Ghaldring chose that location because he thought it was remote enough for the work that needed to be done. To Shape and reShape drakons and make his army. It took years of heartlessly destroying the weak and copying the strong. I learned the art of the canisters. How to make them. And use them. And use them. Those were the happiest years of my life. Planning, hiding, sending out agents, preparing to emerge. My new beliefs had not soured in me yet. But those days had to end. There were too many of us. Too much power. Our detection was inevitable. It was time to make the great gamble, to lash out at the Shapers with their own power, full and uncontrolled. I left our home, found a target, and attacked.”

“Where?” asked Drassia.

“A school of Shaping. I made creations, entered the school, and slaughtered all I found. I thought it made such a good symbol. After all, it had been in such a school that the Shapers did their best to enslave me. But... I felt such joy. The canisters had changed me. They had filled me with power and rage, and it felt good to let it out. But I was not like the others. I realized what was happening to me, and it disgusted me.”

“Do you feel that I am the same?” asked Drassia.

“You can obviously control the power and the rage. For now. But, I suspect, you will always need to be vigilant.”

“So did you stay with the rebellion?”

“Yes. I still believed that its cause was just. We fought, taking advantage of the Shapers’ arrogance, and we had more success than I had thought possible. I still thought my crude child’s idea of a just world could exist. And then, as we conquered eastern Terrestia and consolidated our gains, I saw what was happening to the drakons. To Ghaldring. To all of them. They began to command the other creations and Shape all sanity and control out of themselves. They are arrogant creatures. This is not unique to them; the Shapers are the same. This does not excuse the horrors they have created. On the day that the first Unbound were released, I realized the truth: The power to make life is too strong. It corrupts. It gives one madman the ability to do immeasurable harm, and this cannot be prevented. The day the Unbound were unleashed was the day I became a Trakovite.

“And that is my story. Thank you for your patience. I will spare you the story of how I found the Trakovites, how I took a group of scattered and confused victims and convinced them to follow me. The Trakovites can make their ideas heard if they have the courage to do what needs to be done.”

Something about the way Litalia said that gave Drassia a chill. If her story was to be believed, Litalia was very good at two things: believing in a cause and killing for it. She asked Litalia, “What do the Trakovites believe?”

Litalia said, “Our beliefs are simple. And yet, they are so radical that the Shapers and the drakons alike would kill us for them. We believe that no one — human, servile or drakon — has the wisdom and self-control necessary to wisely and responsibly create life. We believe that the use of magic and essence to create life will always end badly. That is what we believe, and it has not changed in the handful of years that the movement has existed. The only thing I have changed is our tactics.”

“How have you changed your tactics?” asked Drassia.

“Terrestia has been under Shaper rule for centuries,” Litalia said. “Everything on the continent, the plants, the animals, the people, the thoughts, has been remade to fit Shaper belief. To change all of this will be extremely difficult. It will require sharp, powerful shocks, delivered at exactly the right place and time, without mercy. We have received an incredibly rare opportunity. If we remained a pack of pathetic misfits, hiding in our cellars and whispering in our alleyways, we would never be able to do anything about it.”

“Why is this such a rare opportunity?”

“Every Shaper alive grew up in a world where their power was unquestioned. Now they have been challenged. They are terrified. Lashing out. They are being made to see the world in a new way. This is precious and rare and leaves them open to influence. We must act now!” Litalia’s fervor was almost religious.

Drassia asked, “So what do you plan to do?”

“This is a secret. Only those who have convinced me of their loyalty will hear my plans.”

Drassia said, “I must go and think on what I’ve heard. I might be back.”

 

* * *

 

Outside the haven, Drassia thought about what her options were.

The first: Rawal. She knew she had done some distasteful things in trying to get her power back from him, but she was less willing to do something that would almost certainly get her killed. Rawal displayed typical Shaper arrogance in thinking that the Shapers would win, but Drassia doubted that very much without the leadership of someone like General Alwan. The drakons were too strong to lose unless someone took them out soon.

The second: Alwan. He could probably win the war for the Shapers, but Drassia didn’t think he was going to create a world where creations could be equal to humans. That was the cause she sympathized with. Sentimental? Maybe. But she couldn’t just leave it.

The third: Taygen. He definitely wasn’t going to make a world where creations and humans would be equal, and besides that, he wanted to destroy all creations. She looked down at Spitfire. She didn’t think she could willingly follow anyone who she knew would kill her fyora. Besides, he probably wouldn’t trust her anyway.

The fourth: Ghaldring. He could beat the Shapers, yes, but Drassia didn’t think he was likely to share the power he would get. He was fighting for his own power, and no one else’s. The world he would create would wind up with the drakons superior to all, humans and other creations alike. Drassia was all but certain the drakons would abuse the power they would get from winning the war.

The fifth: Litalia. She could probably actually impose her beliefs on the world, if she followed the tactics she had outlined, but Drassia disagreed with those beliefs. She didn’t think that Shaping was inherently wrong. Yes, some bad things had come out of Shaping, but those were only the results of a few insane, power-hungry people.

She leaned back. Damn. She had five bad options, and she had to choose between them. Then she remembered that there was one person she hadn’t considered, one that might actually make a world that Drassia wanted to live in.

 

* * *

 

Councilor Astoria sat on her throne after a long day of unproductive meetings with diplomats, sending some token orders to her troops, and generally doing far too much work for all the nothing she was getting out of it. She was tired and tense. All she wanted to do was get to her private laboratory and work on some promising experiments, but she still had an audience to hold in about half an hour.

As she sat with her eyes closed, she sensed someone approaching, someone who had been heavily Shaped. She only knew of one person like that who would be able to get past the guards unchallenged. Without opening her eyes, Astoria asked, “What is it, Drassia?”

Drassia asked her, “Do you have a way to end the war?”

That got Astoria’s attention. She opened her eyes, sat up in her throne, and smiled. Perhaps something good would come out of this day after all.

 


	16. Travald's Crypt

“She’s not here to fight us!” snarled the cryodrayk. “See? She has the amulet! We need only kill her if she attacks us or tries to get into the tunnel!”

The tribal serviles the cryodrayk was yelling at sullenly lowered their weapons. The cryodrayk turned back to Drassia and said, “These serviles are always raring for a fight. I am Cenasso, and I have orders to keep this tunnel sealed.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Drassia said, “because I need to get in there.”

She was back in the wastes between the Line and Gazaki-Uss. Astoria’s answer to her question about ending the war had been a resounding “maybe.” Drassia’s mission was to contact a drakon named Tholosss that had been cast out by the rebellion and get a message he had back to Astoria. Astoria had said that Tholosss was hiding somewhere in the wastes, but she wasn’t sure where. Drassia thought that this cave was a likely candidate for his hiding place, but the creations blocking her way didn’t seem to want to let her check.

The serviles’ hands tightened on their weapons again as Cenasso tensed up. “You don’t have the authority to go in there. I hope, for both our sakes, that you leave soon.”

Drassia held up the amulet. “Ghaldring gave me this so that I could do his bidding. When he told me to come here, he said that my task was... pest extermination.” She put special emphasis on the last two words.

Cenasso and the serviles looked very confused and nervous. They gathered for a whispered consultation. Finally, they came up with a way out of their conundrum. Cenasso turned back to Drassia. “We have to go get new orders from Ghaldring. Do not enter the tunnel until we return.” He and the serviles walked quickly to the south. Drassia hoped that it would take them a few hours, giving her time to get past whatever traps Tholosss might have set. As soon as they were out of sight, she entered the tunnel.

She passed through the tunnel and came out into a large, dark cavern. It was cold, and the smell of rot pervaded the air. Drassia could sense the magic, and knew that it had to be very powerful to be able to affect her. The cavern looked like it had been blasted out with magic to open up a large underground complex extending into the bedrock to the north. The stone floor around her was heaped with rubble. At the far end of the cave, Drassia could see skulls and bones piled high. Considering the power she felt here, the implied threat was backed up by the ability to do a lot of harm. However, she had no choice. If she was to find Tholosss, she would have to get past whatever obstacles were in her way.

Looking at the tracks on the floor, Drassia saw that something large, bipedal, and reptilian had been up and down the passage to the north several times. She also saw that four or five humanoids had been down the passage to the east, dragging something large along with them. She saw no sign that they had returned. She went north and found a locked door. She tried to pick the lock and found that it was just too complicated. She sighed. Looked like it was the east passage, then. She went that way and stepped into an old, musty hall.

Ghosts walked between the various mausoleums on either side of the hall. It was not unheard of for the old cultures of Terrestia to, when a leader died, bury some servants alive with him so that he would have helpers in the afterlife. The shades hadn’t detected her yet, but she thought that if they did, they would try to work out their resentment at their undead state on her. She grinned at the thought. _Let them try._

The shades went down pretty easily. They didn’t have much power behind them; all Drassia had to do was hit them with magic while Fang and Spitfire used their own methods. None of them got close enough to actually attack her. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. At the end of the passage, Drassia saw a door blocked by a shade fainter and more shapeless than the ones she’d just fought. She wasn’t fooled. This one was far more powerful. She heard the shade’s voice in her head. There were no words; Drassia simply got ideas from the shade. “Travald? Husband? No. Not husband. Not beloved. Intruder. Must do duty. Must fight. Bound here. Await your challenge.”

Drassia could sense that she wouldn’t be able to talk the shade into just letting her pass. She looked behind her and saw that the humanoids had dragged the large object through a side tunnel. She might as well go see what it was. She said to the shade, “I won’t challenge you yet. I want to see something.” She turned and went to see what the object was.

After disarming a pair of traps, Drassia found a servile’s body next to a pair of barrels of noxious goo and a power spiral. It seemed obvious what the servile and his compatriots had been trying to do: blow up the wall and the shade of Travald’s wife along with it. They had obviously failed, but the plan seemed sound. Drassia bent down next to the power spiral and worked the non-standard controls to activate it. The power spiral hissed and hummed, starting to pulse, first slowly, then faster. It seemed to have a very short fuse. Drassia ran back down the tunnel, getting back out and seeing the shade just before the power spiral exploded. The wall blew outward and smashed into the shade, disintegrating it. Drassia approached the door behind the shade. It opened.

Drassia walked down the hallway beyond the open door and into another chamber with two glowing crystal pillars, six closed doors in the walls, and another shade. This one, however, seemed far more resentful. Drassia received the flow of images again. She saw a huge, stone, tribal throne room, definitely pre-Shaper. There was a massive warrior sitting in the throne. _That must be Travald,_ Drassia thought. Then the picture shifted to focus on a small man behind Travald, holding a double armful of papyrus scrolls. This was the shade she faced now. “Made to end here. Made to defend Travald. I am bound. Challenge me or go.”

“Okay. I challenge you,” said Drassia.

“Finally. A chance to fight. A chance to end my time here. I am sworn to battle you. I hope I fail.”

Drassia threw some energy at the shade. It didn’t even flinch. She frowned and tried ice as Spitfire tried fire. Neither of those seemed to affect the shade, either. She growled and drew her sword. She, Spitfire, and Fang all charged the shade at the same time. Drassia swung her sword through the shade as Fang and Spitfire bit at it. That seemed to do more damage, but the shade started fighting back; it flung some energy back at her and her creations, forcing them to dodge. All three of them leaped back, and the shade waved a hand. One of the doors opened, letting out another two shades. These didn’t seem as powerful to Drassia, but she was sure they could be just as annoying. Her suspicion was confirmed when one of them made a gesture at Fang. Fang turned on Drassia with a look on its face that told her it had been charmed into helping the shades. Drassia swore under her breath and dodged Fang’s strike, trying to get into its mind to get it back under control. It worked, but Drassia was not happy that the shades could do that. She snarled and tried something that had worked well for her in the past: She sprayed all three shades with acid. It seemed to affect the two that Travald’s advisor had let in much more than it did Travald’s advisor itself. Drassia decided to let the acid do her work on the weaker shades and attack Travald’s advisor once again. Her strike passed through the shade, weakening it. The shade shoved her away, leaving a cold burn on her arm, and waved its hand again, opening another two doors and letting in another three shades. Drassia clenched her teeth. Great. Now she was outnumbered two to one. She had faced worse odds before, but not when the other side could turn her own creations against her. It was time for more drastic measures. Unfortunately, using the amounts of fire that had served her so well at the Dera Purity Workshop would be likely to use up all the oxygen in this subterranean chamber and kill her by asphyxiation. She was going to have to get creative.

She swung her sword at Travald’s advisor again, but before the blow connected, the crystal pillars behind it changed color. The blow passed harmlessly through the shade. Drassia saw, however, that the shade was now being affected by the acid she’d sprayed on it. She smiled as a thought occurred to her. She sprayed yet more acid at the six shades in the room, then pulled a small crystal out of her pack. When she triggered it, it would release an icy explosion. Of course, that meant she didn’t want to do it while it was still in her hand. She motioned for Fang and Spitfire to get behind her and threw the crystal at Travald’s advisor. Just before it hit, Drassia triggered it — but with far more energy than it had been intended for. The explosion left ice on the floor around the shade and nearly destroyed the five weaker shades in the room. Only Travald’s advisor had any sort of meaningful power left. Drassia and her creations made short work of the five weaker shades while Travald’s advisor recovered.

The shade opened two of the remaining three doors, letting in another three shades. Drassia could tell that it was much weaker now. She let Fang and Spitfire go after Travald’s advisor while she tackled the other three shades. She blasted one with a magic shot and stabbed at another as she shield-bashed the third. The one she’d hit with magic recovered and retaliated, firing back something that Drassia wasn’t quite quick enough to dodge. It felt like it poisoned her, but it was slow-acting enough that Drassia could finish the fight before having to do anything about it. She pulled back and fired ice at the shades, trying to keep them off guard. One of them tried to hit her with its fist, but Drassia leaned to the side and slashed her sword straight through its midsection, dissipating it. She dropped to the floor to avoid the magic blasts the other two shades fired at her and hit them with magic blasts of her own to finish them off.

She spun towards Travald’s advisor and saw that her creations had gotten in some good hits, but still had some effort to put in before the shade would finally die. It was preoccupied with fighting Fang and Spitfire, so Drassia took careful aim and fired three bolts of energy at it. It never saw them coming.

Drassia cured the poison she had been hit with, healed some scratches Fang and Spitfire had taken, and headed towards the one door that hadn’t yet been opened. It opened at her approach into another cave. This one had eight shades of the same kind she had encountered at the beginning of the crypt. They went down just as easily.

Drassia walked to the end of the cave into a throne room that looked like the one the shade of Travald’s advisor had shown her. There were pillars too close together for her to squeeze through surrounding the throne, though there were pressure-plate traps in gaps between them. As she went farther in, the door suddenly slammed shut behind her, causing her to spin and look. Drassia looked back at the throne and saw that there was a shade there now. Where the other defenders had had power, though, this shade had none. Then Drassia realized this wasn’t a defender, but the defendee: This was Travald. It said nothing, flickering in and out of visibility. As Drassia watched it, other shades formed at the perimeter of the room and began to slowly float around it. While Travald was nearly nonexistent, these shades had a lot of power. Drassia was willing to hazard a guess that this defensive spell had never been activated before. The shades walked slowly around the room, not noticing Drassia at all. However, knowing the way these things worked, Drassia guessed that they wouldn’t ignore her forever.

Drassia tried to disarm one of the pressure plates and found that they were too complicated. She couldn’t do it. She looked around for another way of avoiding the shades and saw that the gap between two particular shades was much larger than the gaps between any of the others. If the shades only looked for things close to them, she and her creations could stay in that gap and not have to fight... assuming that the defenders disappeared when Travald did, which he seemed about to. Drassia quickly got into the gap and moved around the perimeter of the room, trying to keep an equal distance between the two shades on either side. Suddenly, the shades started looking around, turning their heads from side to side. They seemed to be looking for enemies close to them. Drassia breathed a sigh of relief, as, if they had looked for more distant intruders, she would have been screwed. As she walked, she kept an eye on Travald’s shade, which did appear to be fading. She kept walking, waiting for it to fade out of existence completely.

Finally, the shade of Travald disappeared. The defenders faded away. The defensive power of the crypt had been exhausted. Drassia heard clicking sounds come from the pressure plates on the floor around the throne. She walked out of the throne room, through a surprisingly well-preserved cavern where the embalming of the corpses must have been done, and into a larger cavern where the crypt’s only undead resident was. A drakon had set up a small home with a desk, supplies, and a small nest. When Drassia got close, she could see that he actually looked old. Drakons were made to be very long-lived, she knew, but this one must have been an early model. His scales were cracked, his eyes milky. He said, “Ahsss. I see you have destroyed my protectors. It isss a shame. They kept Ghaldring’s lackeysss from inconveniencing me. Now I mussst move on. But before I do, I would talk to you. My name is Tholosss, and I am curiousss. Are you just a grave robber, or something more?”

“Councilor Astoria sent me,” Drassia said. “She believes you have a message for her.”

Tholosss nodded slowly. “I have not met her, only her envoysss such as you. She seemsss wise. I have done what she asked, spoken with those I needed to. It was hard. Now I am ready to send a message back. Tell Astoria that it is possible. She will know what I mean.”

Drassia said, “Thank you,” and left the crypt. If that meant what she thought it did, then Astoria did have a way to end the war.

 


	17. The Repository

Drassia emerged from a tunnel into an isolated valley high up in the Whitespires. She had never been there before, and it looked like no one had in a long time. The sheet of snow on the path was completely undisturbed. There was something there, though. A large stone dome blocked the valley to the east. Two creatures stood guard, lurking motionlessly by the door. When they saw Drassia, they stood up and shook off the snow that covered them. They were creations. Strange, freakish creations. They had four legs, like roamers, but they looked like they had been patched together from parts of many different beasts. They were awkward and ungainly, all muscle. Their skin was smooth, pale, and shades of a sickly pink. They each stared at Drassia with a single glowing eye and growled softly in unison when she got close.

Drassia entered the dome and found a golem inside. When it saw her, it started moving, its mouth forming an immobile “O” shape. Words floated from the opening. “You have entered the Foundry Repository. Please show your key or depart.”

Drassia said, “I have a key,” and showed it a copper key she had gotten from Astoria.

The golem didn’t move. There was a long silence. Then the golem said, “The key is genuine. You may access your vault.”

Drassia said, “Thank you,” and walked towards the door in the back of the dome. However, the golem wasn’t finished. It said, in a noticeably different voice, “The Foundry Repository is currently closed due to difficulties controlling the guardians. Please return to Minallah.”

Drassia stopped. “What’s wrong with the guardians?”

The golem said in its second voice, “The defenders will attack all intruders on sight. This is unfortunate. Shaper Rawal assures you that the problem will be corrected soon.”

Drassia didn’t believe that last part for a moment. “How are the defenders controlled?”

The golem made a long, garbled sound, as if it were trying to give two responses at once. Drassia’s presence seemed to calm it, though, and it finally gave a coherent response. In its first voice, it said, “The defenders are controlled from a center. They are sent instructions and energy to sustain them through conduits.”

“Where is this control center?”

The golem made the garbled sound again before its helpful side won out. “The control center is in the southeast corner of the complex. Leave to the east and follow the south wall.”

“Where is the vault I need to enter?”

In its first voice, the golem said, “When you insert the key, the proper door will be opened remotely. A crystal will then light to indicate where you should go.”

“Where do I insert the key?”

The golem reverted to its second voice. “The Foundry Repository is currently closed due to difficulties controlling the guardians. Please return to Minallah.”

Drassia thought about that one. “All right, where would Shaper Rawal insert a key if he were here?”

The golem made the sound that meant its helpful and unhelpful sides were struggling for dominance. Finally, the good side won. “The access point is in the very center of the complex.”

Drassia said “Thank you,” and went through the door. As she did, the golem said in its second voice, “The Foundry Repository is currently closed due to difficulties controlling the guardians. Please return to Minallah.” Drassia ignored it.

As she went to the control center, Drassia thought about her conversation with Astoria the day before. She had given her Tholosss’s message. Astoria had chuckled and said that was amazing. Miraculous, even. Then Drassia had asked how Astoria intended to end the war.

_Astoria said, “We all wish to end this war. Before I can trust you fully, I must swear you to secrecy. I will tell you only what you need to know, no more. The war is lost. The creations are too determined, too willing to suffer and die. We were too complacent, too overconfident. The only question now is how much the people of Terrestia must suffer before we bow to the inevitable.”_

_Drassia asked, “What will you do?”_

_“I will sue for peace,” Astoria replied. “I will give the creations what they want: Lands to call their own. Freedom to abuse as they see fit. Only one thing stands between me and victory: I must convince the Shaper Council to accept my plan.”_

_“Where do I come into this?” Drassia asked._

_“The Shaper Council must be made to see reason. They must agree to sue for peace. We will lose the war. We will have less land. But we will be able to stop fighting! They will only agree to this if they are coerced. I cannot act against Council members directly; I need an agent who can manipulate them, under my direction, until I have enough votes for my plan to be adopted. It will be very dangerous. You may well be killed. If you want to save Terrestia, however, I think it is the only way. So. You have proven yourself to me. Will you swear loyalty to me? Will you fight to sue for peace and end this war?”_

_Drassia said, “I will.”_

_Astoria rose and put her hand on Drassia’s shoulder. “Then swear to trust and serve me. Follow my commands. Work to bend the Shaper Council to our will, so that we can finally attain an honorable peace.”_

_Drassia said, “I so swear.”_

_“And I swear to aid you in your struggle and reward you for your successes. I am pleased to have a new ally, a cunning and dangerous infiltrator. Now that there is hope, I am eager to begin. Let’s talk about your first mission. There’s an obstacle we need to remove. His name is Rawal.”_

The control center was uncomfortably hot. Drassia reflected that it was probably the only warm area in the Repository, so she shouldn’t complain. She could see a pair of power spirals and some crystals that provided power, but the only way she could see to alter anything was a control panel. She walked up to it and looked at the controls. They seemed simple enough. She tried working them. They were frozen in place. Drassia sighed. Of course. Making the guardians ignore intruders would just have been too easy. Rawal certainly seemed to be on top of things. She looked at the control panel and saw an access panel at the bottom. She popped it off, exposing the inner workings.

Looking at the circuitry, Drassia could see two ways to make things easier for herself. The first was to lower the power flow, making the guardians easier to kill if she had the misfortune of alerting one. The second was to make the power flow fluctuate unpredictably to irritate the guardians and make them less likely to notice her in the first place. She did both things, expending several living tools in the process, got up, and left the control center after telling Fang and Spitfire to stay there.

Drassia walked down the path to the north of the control center... and promptly turned back around when she saw a group of three of the odd patchwork creatures coming her way. She walked back south, looking over her shoulder to see if the guardians would stop. They did. After a moment, they turned around and headed back the way they had come. Drassia followed, though without getting too close. The guardians went into a stone dome and were joined by another group of three guardians that came from the north. There was another path that went west; Drassia headed that way. It wasn’t far before she found a point in the path with a dome on either side. Looking in the south dome, she saw six guardians on Shaping platforms into which power conduits ran. She looked in the north dome and saw several pairs of crystals around a control panel. She entered the northern dome. Each pair of crystals had one red crystal and one green one; the red crystal in each pair was glowing. Drassia took out the key Astoria had given her, which had a “G” on it, and through trial and error, she found which one of the eight holes in the panel the key fit into. One of the red crystals stopped glowing and its green partner started to. Drassia hoped that the crystal pairs were arranged to reflect the actual locations of the bays whose status they indicated. She looked into the dome across the way and saw that it was empty. That meant she would have to wait for the guardians to get back before she could go out and find Bay G.

When the guardians got back, Drassia went east down the path, then south a bit. She found a sign that said “Repository Bay G” on it next to a door. The door opened at her approach, and Drassia entered.

There was a desk in the room with a book on it. Drassia remembered that Astoria had said that Rawal looked through the bays of each Council member who had one. Drassia had been sent to retrieve some correspondence between Astoria and some rebel leaders about a possible solution for peace. When Drassia had asked why it was necessary for her to get it, as all of the Council members knew Astoria wanted peace with the rebels, the response had been that they would only agree to peace with the rebels if the cost was left vague and undefined. If Rawal had these letters when the Council met, he could tell the other members what they would have to give up, and Astoria knew that they would never agree if they had concrete information on that; she would only be able to convince them if she waited until after the agreement was made to confront them with the cost of their decision.

Drassia opened the book and found that it was actually a series of scrolls bound together, most of them dealing with the governance of the Mera-Tev: regulations, tariffs, and so on. She flipped through and found a section of the book containing letters between Astoria and Greta, the general Drassia had met in Penta and Gazaki-Uss, talking about the terms of possible peace. Looking at the letters, Drassia could see why Astoria didn’t think the rest of the Council would agree to peace if they knew the price they would have to pay. She tore the letters out of the book and pocketed them.

She left the repository bay, went back to the guardian control center to collect Fang and Spitfire along a path that had no guardians on it, and left the Repository. She knew this would remove one way Rawal would have of discrediting Astoria, and she had a couple of guesses as to how she could turn Taygen to Astoria’s side, but for the life of her she couldn’t see how she would discredit Alwan. Doing such a thing would require breaking the line, and that wasn’t possible... was it?

 

 


	18. Breaking the Line

“I hope that this is going to save your lives,” Drassia said as she held up the amulet Ghaldring had sent General Alwan.

The serviles threatening her chuckled. Their leader said, “Save our lives? It might save yours, if no trick.”

“Oh, it’s no trick. Ghaldring has invited me. Although, if you’d like to see which if our lives it would save...”

The lead servile snorted. “You say Ghaldring invite you. But these our lands. We no do all Ghaldring say. Because of respect for him, we give you count of five. If you still here by then...” He raised his baton and pointed it at Drassia. The other serviles followed his example. “One.”

Drassia said, “I’m on a mission to find a way past the Shaper Line. If you want to hurt the Shapers, you will let me by.”

At this, the serviles looked confused, but pleased. The lead servile said, “You may pass. Death to the Shapers.” The serviles went back to their patrol of the part of the border wastes that they claimed as their own.

Drassia went over the instructions that Councilor Astoria had given her in her head. She was to look for two mossy pillars by the south canyon wall. She went that way and, after a little searching, found the pillars described. She had been told that the entrance was between the pillars. She looked at the wall. It looked like stone. She got closer, looking for a crack that would betray the existence of a passage, and sensed that the wall was, in fact, not stone. It was a creation. Drassia put her hand on the wall and established a connection with the creature. It was all too happy to cooperate with her. The odd stone beast compressed itself to one side, revealing a tunnel in the wall. Drassia stepped in and walked down the tunnel.

 

* * *

 

About a mile of abandoned mining tunnels, narrow, natural crevices, and hallways hurriedly dug out with servile labor later, Drassia came to the entrance to a subterranean outpost with a tattered Shaper banner on the wall. It looked abandoned. No guards were on duty. There were no signs. However, Drassia could sense the magic and creations nearby. That was worrying. Shapers never left creations or magic, let alone both, unattended without a very good reason.

Looking directly to the south, Drassia could see a broad, low chamber with several traps in it activated. Those, she had little doubt, would pose her no problems, but the flock of exceptionally large wingbolts might. There was a pacification pylon in the center of the flock, but it was inactive. Drassia could see dark power conduits on the floor leading to the west. Without entering the chamber, she went that way. She saw unused building materials and the spoor of many creations. They had to have been wandering around for months without food or care, sustained only by Shaper magic. Drassia found a branch off the cavern she was in and went down it, finding a pair of pressure-plate traps that she disarmed, a locked door beyond that, and a power spiral beyond that. Its power conduits went through the wall to the east, which meant it could be the power source for the pacification pylon. Drassia got down on her knees and set about reactivating the power spiral. It had been sabotaged, likely as part of the effort to defend the tunnels from intruders, but Drassia was able to repair it in a few minutes. She went back to the eastern chamber and found that the pacification pylon was active. She disarmed the pressure-plate trap in the entrance to the chamber and simply walked past the wingbolts without their noticing her.

Once she got past the wingbolts, she found that her next obstacle was a network of field pylons blocking a few narrow tunnels into the wall to the west. She knew that, very often, these networks would have multiple controls hidden within them, each turning off only one or two pylons, and getting to them often required traversing a maze that killed you if you got too close to the boundaries. This particular network had four such boxes; Drassia moved up and down the maze, turning off each box as the way to it opened.

She went into the tunnel that had been unblocked by the last spore box and found that it was pretty hot in there. A quick glance at the floor confirmed her suspicions: there were overpowered heating pads in the floor, likely requiring another maze traversal to deactivate just enough of them to get through. Drassia sighed and got to work. A few minutes later, she had gotten through the tunnels and was approaching the southwestern exit of the complex. However, there still seemed to be another obstacle.

There was a large golem there. However, it didn’t have the usual lumpy shape; instead, it had been carefully molded to look like a war trall. Its massive stone fists were covered with sharp spikes specially made to punish intruders. As if that weren’t enough, its body was inscribed with all sorts of powerful protective runes. Fighting this thing was bound to involve lots of fun surprises.

Drassia grinned. She loved a good challenge.

She walked closer to the sentinel. It moved to throw a rock at her. She dodged and charged it, swinging her sword into its arm. Her blow only knocked off a bit of its arm, which, to Drassia’s surprise (and disgust), started to move. Within seconds, the bit of stone had been turned to flesh resembling a worm. Only one part remained stone: its teeth. Drassia decided to let Fang and Spitfire take care of that and continued attacking the golem. She dodged a punch it threw at her and hit it with a bolt of magic. It stumbled; several bits of stone chipped off. All of them started squirming and writhing. Drassia took out two with one swing of her sword and fired another bolt of magic, since it had worked well before.

The golem emitted a high, shrill scream that made burrowed into Drassia’s brain, filling her with terror and making it impossible to concentrate. She shook her head to clear it. She was immune to such tricks, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t distract her for a moment. When she recovered, she found that the sentinel was walking off to the north. She gave chase immediately. It went to a Shaping platform that was hooked up to a power spiral and stood on it. There was a zapping sound, and Drassia could only watch in horror as the golem’s stone flesh was repaired before her eyes.

The golem hurled another rock at her. She rolled to the side and indicated to Fang and Spitfire that they should keep it busy while she went and sabotaged the device. She opened an access panel on the side, intending to simply destroy it, but then she had a much better idea. She grinned evilly, did her work on the device, and returned to fighting the golem herself, blasting it with two bolts of magic. Sure enough, the golem emitted the horrible shriek again and walked back to the Shaping platform to go repair itself.

Drassia watched as her handiwork became evident. The golem stepped on the platform and was instantly given far too much energy. It exploded into green goo that got all over Drassia and her creations. Thankfully, the goo didn’t seem to be harmful, just disgusting. Drassia approached the door behind it. It opened, revealing a faint glimmer of light and a breath of fresh air. Drassia breathed it in and smiled. She had cleared a path through the mountains. She had broken the Line.

 


	19. Kayar's Spire

At the east end of the Dera Reaches, there was a subterranean research complex called Kayar’s Spire (why it was called a “Spire” if it wasn’t a tower, Drassia didn’t know). It was the laboratory where Sage Taygen did his most secret and important work. Drassia had been told by Councilor Astoria that Kayar’s Spire was where Sage Taygen was making the Purity Agent, the disease with which he intended to wipe out all creations. Her task: find some way to negate all the work that Taygen had done so far, or at least enough of it that Taygen wouldn’t be completing it anytime within the next few years. Drassia wholeheartedly supported this notion.

She entered Kayar’s Spire, not by the front entrance, which was guarded by soldiers who attacked on sight, but by the back way, which was blocked by some creations a rebel lifecrafter had made. The creations were easily deterred with some pacification pylons, but the machines that powered those pylons had gotten gummed up by the sand and humidity, and Drassia had had to reactivate them and get past the creations before they got gummed up again.

The back entrance led into the subterranean cells that were a labyrinth of long, dark stone galleries. There were cages and tracks, and the smell of creation sweat was very strong. If Drassia had had to guess, she would have said that these creations were here because the researchers in Kayar’s Spire needed to study them in order to make the Purity Agent wipe out creations but nothing else. Drassia could also hear the echoes of footsteps. Clunking footsteps. The kind only one type of creation could really make: golems. If Drassia was seen by one, it would be impossible to reason with it. If they hadn’t been told to let her pass (and Drassia knew they hadn’t), they wouldn’t.

Drassia looked around for some sort of way to get control of the golems. The only thing she saw that she could immediately get to was a door in the wall to the north. She opened it and found herself looking at four control panels. Off to the east was a servant mind. Drassia went to go talk to it. On the surface, it seemed well cared for: reasonably well fed, healthy, moist. However, on closer examination, something was definitely wrong with it. It seemed nervous, shifting around a lot with its eyes tightly closed. Drassia had to poke it to get it to realize she was there.

Its eyes flew open. “I... I... visitor. You are visitor. From Sage Taygen? Or not. Am... I am Mind Vant. Controller of Spire Cell Blocks.”

“Describe the purpose of this complex,” Drassia said.

“Is cells. Cells for creations, kept for research use. For Kayar’s Spire. Needed for research there.”

“How are the cells defended?” Drassia asked.

“Patrols. Golem patrols. Very powerful. Dangerous. Best to avoid them. Yes.”

“Can you tell the patrols to ignore me?” asked Drassia.

“No... no... Agent Caluma. Only she can give that order. They attack on sight. Stay away from them.”

Drassia thought for a moment. “What exactly do you do here?”

She was authoritative enough to get an answer out of the poor creature. “Watch over control creatures. To west. Control access to them.”

“What are the control creatures used for?”

“Control paths of golem defenders. Yes. Can’t deactivate them, but can steer them.”

“Please give me access to the control creatures,” Drassia said in her calmest, most reassuring voice.

It was enough to get the mind to bend the rules for her (that, and the fact that whatever was going on the labs unnerved it). “Yes... can let you use controls. Can do no more. Do not ask. I hope you are from outside. I hope something is... just... that is all.” Vant closed its eyes again.

Drassia went over to the control creatures. Each of them had a single knob on them with two positions. Each position was marked with a sequence of two or three letters. Drassia had absolutely no idea what that meant. She went out of the door and saw an obelisk nearby with a letter “J” on it. Her train of thought was interrupted when she heard some golems coming down the corridor to her. She went back into the control room (which, now that she thought about it, really should have been placed farther inside) and looked at the control creatures. She found what she was looking for: One of them had its knob turned to the position marked “JK”. Drassia would have bet that it she looked at the golems’ path, there would have been an obelisk marked “K” at the other end. The other position on the knob was marked “KLI”. Drassia knew that altering the setting wouldn’t be as simple as just turning the knob. She gently petted the control creature. She reassured it. She gave it a bit of food. Then she delicately pinched the knob, pushed in, and slowly turned the knob. The control creature let out a satisfied squeak.

Drassia poked her head out of the control room and saw that the golems had gone to the obelisk down the hall. They stood there for a moment... then they turned and went down a different path. Drassia beckoned to Fang and Spitfire, and they went down the hall. As they passed, Drassia saw that the obelisk did indeed have a “K” on it. There was a block of cells there; it looked like four cells in a square. Drassia looked through the book that stood on a pedestal nearby. It had records of all the creations that had been in these cells. All had the same eventual fate: “Taken to Spire for Agent efficiency testing.” At the moment, two of the cells were occupied: the northwest cell had four heavily augmented serviles in it, while the southeast one had a malfunctioning construct. Drassia suspected that talking to the serviles would yield no useful information. She took stock of her surroundings. To the south of the cell block, there was a large, long pool of water with more golems patrolling on the other side. Drassia didn’t fancy trying to swim across in her heavy armor; she would sink like a rock. The pool didn’t go all the way to the east wall, but there were four pylons on the strip of land connecting the two banks. There were also pylons in front of the southwest cell door. At first Drassia didn’t understand why, but then she got it: the way the golems were set up, they would pass by the southwest corner of the cell block. The only two ways to get to that corner were south from the northwest corner, which path the golems patrolled on in their current setting, and west from the southeast corner, which was blocked by the field pylons. She would have to find some way of deactivating them if she wanted to go on. Without any clue of how to do this, Drassia opened the southwest cell door, thinking that perhaps she could take out some of her frustration on the construct inside. It turned out to be a golem. It tried to get close enough to attack her, but she simply blasted it with bolts of magic until it went down. She was about to turn away when she noticed a spore box in the corner of the cell. She frowned, thinking that was an odd place for it, and walked in to flip the switch. When she did, she heard the pylons right outside turn off. She poked her head out and waited for the golems to go north so that she could go west.

Once she had passed the path that the golems patrolled, she let out a sigh. That had been one patrol of golems, and there had been three or four control panels in the control room, which meant there were two or three more patrols... She sighed again. It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

Agent Caluma stood at her control panel in Kayar’s Spire. Her short, iron-colored hair was plastered to her forehead by the heat and humidity. She had eventually gotten used to the smell of unwashed creation, blood, and decay in a lab, but it was just so... _different_ from what a laboratory should be, which was clean and antiseptic. She was also fairly good at ignoring the roars of almost-rogue creations, the clanging of equipment, and the hiss of steam.

She walked over to one of her researchers, looking over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He was working on a test of a rotdhizon, one of the few creations that hadn’t been tested yet. There were three of them in the cells, so it wouldn’t be long after he finished coming up with how to do the test that he would be able to carry it out. He made one final jot on his paper and turned to Agent Caluma, saying, “I’ve finished preparing the test. Now all I need is the rotdhizon.”

Caluma nodded and said, “All right. We’ll go to the cells and get it. We’re almost done with the Purity Agent; after the rotdhizons, we should only need to test —”

The lights went out.

Caluma stopped. There was only one possible way that could happen. Someone must have gotten to the power controls at the north end of the complex, just before the entrance to the cells. That meant there was a saboteur in the labs. And if there was, the saboteur might be prepared to fight, so it was in Caluma’s best interests to bring all three of the researchers with her in case a battle was to happen. She snapped, “All of you, come with me!” They all got up and followed her past the pool that held the incomplete Purity Agent, through the shielding zone, the narrow hallway that was supposed to delay any accident from spreading long enough to seal it in forever, and to the power controls.

Someone had moved one control to the “off” setting, causing a chain reaction that had turned several switches away from where they were supposed to be and turned all the power off. Caluma grunted and started flicking the switches into position one and two at a time, knowing that, since the power was already off, there was no possibility of another chain reaction. The lights flickered and turned back on. Caluma got up and walked back to her control panel. Or at least, that was where she had intended to go. When she got to the Purity Agent vat, though, she stopped dead.

No.

No, this wasn’t possible. She had to be hallucinating.

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them up again. To say that she was upset at the sight she still saw would be like saying that the ocean was wet: it was technically correct, it just didn’t convey the proper degree. Caluma spun around and screamed in the direction of the nearest guard post, “Search the entire complex for intruders! If you find the blackguard who drained the Purity Agent, I want them alive!” She spun to face her assistants. “We’re going to search the cells. If whoever it was got in and out that way, they would have had to get access to the golem controls... which means Mind Vant let them do it.” She ran at full speed towards the cells, knowing that there was no other way the intruder could have gotten in without alerting the guards or already being on the Spire staff. If Mind Vant didn’t know anything, a much lengthier process would be necessary to find out who the culprit was.

Caluma ran past the golems, which had all been instructed to ignore her and her staff, and barged into the control room for the golems. She went to Vant’s cradle and snapped, “Vant!”

The mind’s eyes flew open. “Agent Caluma! I... I...”

“Spare me the pathetic greeting,” Caluma snapped. “Did you or did you not allow someone access to the control creatures for the golems?”

Vant shuddered and didn’t immediately answer, which was answer enough; Vant couldn’t lie to her, and would have no reason to hesitate if the answer was no. Caluma leaned close to the mind. “If you tell me who it was, I will make your death quick and painless. If you don’t...” She let the threat go unfinished.

Vant said, “Woman... green Shaper robes... but not Shaper... had fyora and roamer with her... very powerful...”

Even though Caluma hadn’t been out of the Spire in weeks, she knew who that was. She growled, “Of course it would be the mysterious Drassia.” She said to her assistants, “Go get ready for a trip to the Zephyr Oasis. Sage Taygen needs to know about this.” They nodded and left. Caluma turned back to Vant and said, “I am a woman of my word.”

Vant barely had time to close its eyes in resignation before Caluma drew her sword and chopped it in half.

 


	20. The Council Meeting

“The Purity Agent is history,” Drassia said to Agent Astoria. “I drained the pool it was being made in.”

“Then all is ready. Taygen has lost his hope. Alwan’s forces are losing ground. Rawal has no hold on me.”

“Um, actually...” Drassia said, a bit guiltily. “The task he gave me when he sent me here the first time was to find the locations of the termini of the Shadow Road so that he could embarrass you with it.”

Astoria smiled. “That won’t be an issue if I bring along the control tool in your chest once Sage Quothe removes it. The other Council members are adrift, hoping for guidance. You have done extremely well. You deserve a great reward.” A guard brought Drassia a beautiful talisman, a blessing crystal, and a large sack of coins. “Soon, the full Council will meet. At last, I will be able to present my case. And I will give you the honor of being there. In a week, I will leave for the Shaper Citadel for the Council’s annual meeting. Once all the members are there, I will present my case. In ten days, you must be there. The path there is at the southwest corner of the Mera-Tev. I will instruct the guards to let you pass. It is imperative that you be present when I make my argument. Don’t disappoint me.”

“What should I do in the meantime?” asked Drassia.

“Strengthen yourself. If the Council accepts my proposal, and quite possibly if they don’t, you will need to be in peak condition for the battle I believe must take place. As for how to strengthen yourself...” Astoria shrugged. “I leave that to your discretion.”

Drassia nodded, said, “Thank you,” and headed off to find Sage Quothe in order to get the control tool removed. After that... well, she had heard reports of a bandit named Bennhold running around. It sounded like he could use killing.

 

* * *

 

**Ten Days Later**

The Citadel pass was a steep, winding switchback. The view, Drassia had to admit, was beautiful; a river roared down from the mountain, the road crossing it at several places with bridges centuries old. At the top of the pass, Drassia could dimly see, through the mist and clouds, an enormous stone dome: the Shaper Citadel, the meeting place of the Shaper Council since time immemorial.

Oddly enough, though this was one of the two major routes up to the Citadel, it seemed to have been abandoned. The road had been overgrown in several places, and rogue tracks were everywhere. It seemed the Mera-Tev had been left to fend for itself here. It made little difference to Drassia; if there were still rogues around, she could take her mind off the meeting that was about to happen by using the two hours or so it would take her to climb the pass to kill a few of them. Or maybe a lot of them. Or maybe all of them.

At the final switchback, there was a small outpost on a large, flat area. Some enterprising soul had decided to build an inn and a general store to serve the travelers coming up the pass. It had been abandoned. Once the Shapers had stopped sparing the troops to keep the road clear, the people had moved out and the rogues had moved in. Drassia could hear them moving around in the buildings, looking for food.

By the time she got through the outpost, the total death toll, including that from the switchbacks below, was eleven podlings, five battle alphas, and twelve vlish. As Drassia was leaving the place, she heard an ungodly shriek from below. She ran and looked back the way she had come. A pack of rogues was coming up the pass. Whether they were tracking her or attacking the soldiers at the top of the pass, she couldn’t be sure. The pack was led by an Unbound, and it was coming straight for her. She ran up the pass to the wall at the top, figuring that having some soldiers to back her up couldn’t hurt. There were actual defenses up here; turrets and soldiers rushed about, preparing for the Unbound attack. They never got the chance to do anything.

There were four podlings and one Unbound in the pack of rogues that was coming up the road. As they got closer, the podlings accelerated and overtook the Unbound. Drassia didn’t even draw her sword. She had no intention of letting them get close enough for her to use it. She put out a hand and fired four bolts of magic. All four podlings went down, leaving only the Unbound, which apparently wasn’t smart enough to realize that it might be overmatched. The Unbound roared and flung lightning at Drassia; she sidestepped and fired another bolt of magic at it. The bolt hit the Unbound in the shoulder, spinning it around with the force of its blow. Drassia fired four more times until it fell to the ground, dead. Drassia walked over to it and put another bolt of magic in it, just to be sure.

She turned to the captain of the defenses, who was understandably rattled at the Unbound attack (and the ease with which Drassia had stopped it). He said, “Don’t get many friendly visitors up here. At least, not from below. I’m Captain Griffin. Feel free to rest before heading back down the mountain. I don’t think you’ll be passing through to the Citadel.”

Drassia said, “My name is Drassia. Check your list of people allowed through.”

Griffin pulled a scroll out of his belt and unrolled it, looking through the names on it. “I got a replacement list last week, but there haven’t been any...” He trailed off as he got to the last name on the list. He stared at it for a moment. Finally, he said, “Well, that’s never happened before.” He walked over to the gate, a ten-foot-high slab of stone, slapped it once, and shouted Drassia’s name. He returned to Drassia. “I think that’s what I’m supposed to do. I’ve never actually had to do it before. You can try to enter the Citadel now. If it doesn’t work, don’t be surpri...” He trailed off again, as Drassia had walked over to the gate as soon as he gave her permission, and the gate had opened. Drassia gave him a cheery wave and walked through. The gate closed behind her.

 

* * *

 

The East Ward of the Shaper Citadel was one of the three neighborhoods that surrounded the Citadel dome. Being there was a strange and disorienting experience for Drassia. For the first time since she had regained her mind, she was in a place that hadn’t been ravaged by war. For a few moments, she could experience what peace felt like. The buildings were intact. The people were carefree, not having to worry about rogue attacks. Even the air seemed cleaner. A stone road stretched off to the west, cutting through the middle of the ward on its way to the stone dome where the Shaper Council would soon meet and decide the future of Terrestia.

As Drassia made her way down the path, she was hailed by a loyalist commander. He had a horrible limp, so Drassia was forced to wait for him to catch up to her. He nodded to her. “I only just heard that you had arrived. I’m Commander Kiley, watcher of the Citadel East Ward. I have a message for you. Before you can be allowed to meet with the Council, you must be evaluated. Go up to the Meeting Glade. That was all it said.”

“Who sent the message?” asked Drassia.

“It wasn’t signed. A servile brought it from the dome. Said an Agent sent it. That’s all I know.”

“Where’s the Meeting Glade?”

Kiley pointed northwest. “Up there. It’s an old stone circle that hasn’t been used for anything in decades. It’ll probably be replaced by a workshop soon.”

“Thank you,” Drassia said, and headed northwest. She suspected a trap, as she was certain Astoria would have warned her about any “evaluation” beforehand, and would have signed the message had it been from her. She found the grove described and saw three figures waiting at the north end. Mentally preparing herself for a fight, Drassia walked forward to meet them.

The three people turned out to be serviles, holding swords and batons. Thankfully, none of them were pointed at Drassia. She knew the serviles had to be spies. Then the servile in the middle pulled back her hood, revealing herself to be Mehken. There was a pleasing symmetry to this; Mehken had been there at the beginning of Drassia’s journey, and now she was here at the end. Mehken smiled. “Greetings, Lifecrafter Drassia. I am glad that you found your way to me. The Council meets soon, but first we must speak.”

“What about?” asked Drassia.

“Astoria’s faction is close to victory in the Council, but they still have enemies among the more loyal and closed-minded of their kind. Just as they tried to kill her, they will try to kill you.”

Drassia raised an eyebrow. “Emphasis on _try_.”

Drassia thought she saw one of the serviles smile a bit in his hood. Mehken said, “Now that you are alone up here and far from aid, they will probably strike very soon. You should prepare yourself.”

“Thank you for the warning, Mehken,” Drassia said. “You might want to go now.”

“We will. Thank you for not forcing my fellow spies and me to aid you and break our cover. We still have much to do.”

“Where will you go now?” asked Drassia.

“West. Once your victory is won, we must begin preparing for the next step. We wish you luck. And...” Mehken looked down the hill behind Drassia. “It seems they’ve found you sooner than we thought.”

Drassia spun and looked down the hill. Sure enough, there were several people coming up the hill towards her, holding swords and batons. She said to Mehken, “Go. I’ll be fine.”

Mehken smiled and said, “That you will.” Then she and her companions started to slip away. Drassia prepared herself for a fight.

There were four swordsmen and one baton wielder coming up the hill towards Drassia, Fang, and Spitfire. Drassia cast a blessing as they seemed to decide who would take what. One swordsman went for Fang. Another attacked Spitfire. Drassia was left to deal with the other two swordsmen and the baton wielder. She drew her sword and brought her guard up. The swordsmen attacked simultaneously as the baton wielder aimed and fired. Drassia ducked, allowing the thorn to sail harmlessly over her head, and blocked one swordsman with her shield and the other with her sword. She jumped back, targeted all five of the assassins for the next spell she would use, and clenched her fist. Fireballs came into existence over their heads and shot straight down, giving them what Drassia was sure were horrible burns under their armor. Unfortunately, it didn’t kill them. Drassia decided not to do it again, since that would be a waste of energy, and attacked both of the swordsmen that had been fighting her while they were distracted by the pain. She shield-bashed one of them, knocking him to the ground, and beheaded the other one. The one she’d hit with her shield met the same end a moment later. Drassia looked to her creations; they had both used the distraction to tear the throats out of their assassins, leaving only the baton wielder, who was just recovering. When she looked up, she saw all four of her partners dead and three very pissed-off targets. She wisely turned and fled, but she didn’t get far; Drassia picked her off with a bolt of magic, leaving her with five dead assassins and a meeting to attend.

 

* * *

 

The Shaper Citadel was the greatest work of Shaper architecture in the world, both lovely and terrifying. Its power and remoteness perfectly symbolized the role the Shapers had taken in Terrestia. Soon, Drassia would be inside it. Even with all she had risked, all she had been through, the Citadel dome was still frightening. Which was, of course, the reaction it had been perfectly designed to elicit.

Drassia entered the Citadel and found herself in the eastern gallery, the broad, curving marble corridor around the huge central dome. Rows of benches stretched off to the north and south. There were stone panels in the walls that could be lowered so that spectators could see what was going on. They were all closed, as this meeting of the Council was very private. The doors into the dome, however, had been left open so that Drassia could enter. She could hear the distant echoes of shouting from a passionate argument. Drassia walked through the doors into the huge, impressive dome. The floor was marble with paths worn in it by countless pacing sages, scholars, and serviles. The granite dome arched high overhead. Many generations of serviles had climbed up there to remove bird nests. But the dome was only the second most impressive thing Drassia could see.

Drassia forced herself to walk forward, step by step, to the table where the Shaper Council sat. All seven were there. The four from the central provinces, Rawal, Astoria, Alwan, and Taygen, were red in the face from the shouting and arguing they had been doing about how to save their ravaged lands. The two from the coastal provinces, Sharissa and Nawaz, were wealthy, soft, stylishly dressed, untouched by the war, and unsure about how to proceed. And finally, there was High Councilor Shema. He had once been thought the wisest and most skilled of the Shapers, but his best years had passed him by, and he seemed exhausted at the moment that required him to be strongest.

Drassia approached the seven most powerful humans on the planet and waited for them to notice her. It was several minutes before any of them did. The first was Rawal, who looked at her intently. Then concernedly. Then furiously as he confirmed that she had, indeed, gotten the control tool removed from her chest and (Drassia assumed) that Councilor Astoria had not been bluffing. Drassia gave him a cheeky grin. He looked even angrier. Then High Councilor Shema noticed her. He said tiredly, “Ah, yes. The mysterious wanderer. We are told that you can bring some illumination. Something has to. Please approach.”

Drassia did. She stood before the long stone table as the members of the Council examined her as if she were an interesting (and perhaps terrifying) lab specimen. Shema asked her some basic questions: who she was, where she was from, what she remembered. When that was done, there was a long, awkward silence. They waited for Drassia to speak. Drassia waited for them to speak. Everyone pondered why Drassia had been brought to the meeting.

Finally, Astoria rose and spoke, her words carrying to the ends of the dome. “As you know, this person, this outsider, works for me. This person is evidence of how far our powers have gone out of our control, enough to create a being like this, so much that we will never fully control it again.

“We stand on the brink. We risk losing everything. Alwan’s Line is broken, again, and it will _always_ be broken.” Alwan glared at Astoria. “We are now learning the details of Sage Taygen’s mad plans. Fortunately, his experiments seem to have failed, but they show us how desperate we have become, no matter how much we lie to ourselves.

“Look at this person,” Astoria said, pointing at Drassia. “This _person_. Not a creature. Not a specimen. A person. Warped, twisted, forbidden by our laws, yes, but not evil or mad, and most importantly, not our enemy! We are destroying everything to fight people like her, and we don’t need to. We don’t need to give all and risk losing all. I am not ashamed to admit now that I have been speaking with the northern rebels. We can have an honorable peace. Us in the west. Them in the east. The only obstacle is the drakons. Ghaldring will never accept such a thing. If he dies, however, the drakons will lose their influence in the rebellion, and peace will be at hand.” She sat down.

Shema said, “We must put this to a vote. A yes vote is for a peace treaty in the event of Ghaldring’s death.”

Astoria said, “Yes.”

Alwan said, “No.”

Taygen, broken by the loss of his great project, muttered, “Yes,” without seeming to think about it.

Rawal, seeing Astoria as more influential than Alwan, said, “Yes.”

Sharissa said, “Yes.”

Nawaz said, “Yes.” Like Sharissa, he was scared and confused, willing to pay any price to keep the war away from his gates.

And finally, High Councilor Shema said, “Yes. The vote passes, six to one.” He turned to Drassia. “Astoria places some faith in you. She says you are the one who can show us that the rebels are not inherently our enemy. Fine. It is time for you to prove it. We have a plan for a raid against Gazaki-Uss. We have had it for some time in the hopes of slaying Ghaldring. Astoria assures us that the other rebels will not interfere, which gives this plan a chance of success. You must prove yourself. Show us that you are not our enemy. Go to Gazaki-Uss. Aid the raid. Destroy Ghaldring. Do this, and the peace you have fought for will become a reality.” He waved her off and turned to the rest of the Council. They began to discuss the details of the plan. Drassia turned and left. It seemed she had one final battle ahead of her. She had to kill Ghaldring.

 


	21. The Battle of Gazaki-Uss

The battle was already in progress when Drassia got to the base where the Shapers were. It was, of course, a Shaping battle: the Shapers were making creations and sending them out to fight the creations the drakons were making in the hopes that they would push through to where the drakons were and kill them. That didn’t look likely, though, as the creations seemed to be in a holding pattern well away from the gates of Gazaki-Uss. There were several Shapers there, including, Drassia was surprised to discover, Councilor Astoria. She asked Astoria, “Why are you here?”

“Because... once, the Council was active. We visited every province. We led every charge. We built the Shaper Empire with our own hands,” Astoria said. “That stopped centuries ago, and now we face the consequences of that inactivity. I am here to provide a good example.”

“Who are you setting an example for?” asked Drassia.

“The Councilors of the coastal provinces. Sharissa. Nawaz. Even Shema.” Astoria thought for a moment. “No, _especially_ Shema. They have the most to lose and have done the least to protect it.”

“Are you guilty of inactivity, too?” asked Drassia, and then wished she hadn’t. Astoria didn’t seem offended, though.

“I am. If I had spent less time in Haria-Kel, if I had gone out more often, I might have been able to prevent the... things that happened in my lands. In the Shadow Road.” Drassia frowned and started to ask what had happened in the Shadow Road, but Astoria cut her off. “That, however, is a conversation for another day.”

“Do you really think that the Shapers can be reformed?” asked Drassia.

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I have sworn to do all that I can for the Shapers, and that is what I will do. No more doubt. Now, you should stop talking to me and get to the battle. When you get to the gates of the city, send some fire into the sky and we’ll send some backup for you,” Astoria told her.

Drassia created a war trall and a kyshakk. A nearby Guardian asked her, “Aren’t you going to send those out?”

Drassia said, “My creations fight my battles alongside me, not instead of me.” With that, she, Fang, Spitfire, the war trall, and the kyshakk walked off toward the battle.

 

* * *

 

As she approached the gates of Gazaki-Uss, Drassia got close to a friendly battle beta. It was weak and confused, as the Shaper controlling it was far away. Drassia extended her hand and her will, reassuring it and lending it strength. In only a moment, it was ready to fight with power and confidence, making Drassia wonder if this war could have been won more quickly if the Shapers had spent more time on the front lines and less in their fortresses.

As Drassia got closer, she could see that the Shaper creations were mainly battle betas and ur-glaahks, while the drakon creations were battle betas and ur-glaahks plus podlings and drayks. The combination of the strengthened battle beta, Drassia’s own creations, and Drassia herself would, she thought, make a large difference in how well the Shapers did in this battle. Her thoughts were confirmed when a drakon-made battle beta came up to the one she had strengthened and tried to fight it. The Shaper beta retaliated, its blows landing much harder and more frequently than those of the drakon beta. Within seconds, the drakon beta was dead, and a few more Shaper-made ur-glaahks and battle betas were coming up to her to draw strength from her presence. She let them do so and continued on.

Now that the fighting was getting closer to the gates, the creations that had stood outside them the first time Drassia had come to Gazaki-Uss were starting to get in on the action. Now Drassia had to deal with them as well as the creations the drakons were making from inside the city. Battle betas and podlings started moving in from the sides in an attempt to flank the little Shaper force. Drassia snorted. She had no intention of letting them do any such thing. She cast a blessing and directed the Shaper creations to go to one side while she and hers went to the other. While the Shaper creations fought podlings, Drassia had six battle betas to contend with. None of them even got close. Her war trall’s rocks, her kyshakk’s lightning, Fang’s poison, Spitfire’s fire, and her own magic took them down before they could do anything.

Drassia turned back to Gazaki-Uss to take care of the drayks and ur-glaahks now coming out of the gates. She dodged the drayks’ fireballs as her creations killed them. A few times her creations were hit, which made Drassia heal them as fast as possible. They slogged forward until they got to the gates of the city, where several more powerful rebel creations awaited. These creations attacked just as the Shaper creations sent to deal with the podlings returned. They were sporting magic burns that Drassia healed in seconds. The fight lasted a minute or so, with Drassia sending bolts of magic at the creations coming out of the gates during that time. By the time it was over, several Shaper creations lay dead among the bodies of the rebel ones, but that was only part of the price to pay for the peace Drassia wanted.

Drassia knew she could push forward into Gazaki-Uss if she wanted, but she didn’t want to go too far, and besides, she had some backup to call. She raised a hand and sent a huge gout of flame into the sky. Then she resumed her inexorable push into the city of the drakons.

 

* * *

 

A few minutes later, Drassia stood inside the city. The drakons seemed to have stopped Shaping for a moment, as had the Shapers. Drassia turned around and looked at her backup: three kyshakks and four battle gammas led by an outsider woman who wore the insignia of a commander in the Shaper army. She looked at Drassia. “Ah, here you are. I am Commander Elysia. Say the word, and I’ll send some of them in. We’ll need to reinforce them, though; they’ll get carved up otherwise.”

“You’re only sending some of them in?” asked Drassia.

“My orders are to leave a few back here to hold the gate. We’ll need to fight alongside the rest to help them break through.”

Drassia said, “Hold the gate? From what? The drakons are going to be sending everything at us. They’ll have nothing to spare to send to the gate, and even if they do, the Shapers coming up here in a few minutes will easily destroy whatever slips past. Bring all of them.”

Elysia looked surprised at the coherency of Drassia’s argument. “All right, I... suppose I should bring them all. Just say the word.”

Drassia said, “I’m ready. Go.”

Elysia nodded and started moving. The creations behind her leaped forward with an eager roar. They ran forward until they found a few drakons. The gammas and kyshakks rushed forward and started pummeling the drakons with fists and magic. The drakons didn’t last long. With a start, Drassia realized that she was right outside the hall where she had met Ghaldring, though some walls had been knocked down to allow creations easier access. She moved forward into Ghaldring’s hall and was greeted by the sight of eight drakons and three gazers inside Ghaldring’s hall. Ghaldring was not among them, but the walls at the back had been knocked down as well, revealing a part of the city that Drassia hadn’t known existed. He had to be back there.

Drassia sprayed all of them with acid and directed the battle betas toward the gazers and the kyshakks toward the drakons. They roared and attacked. Since there were more drakons than there were kyshakks, Drassia targeted the drakons as well, drawing some of their fire towards her. She alternated between firing bolts of magic at drakons and casting group healing spells. It didn’t take long for the battle betas to finish the gazers, but the gazers didn’t go down alone; only two of the four battle betas were left alive. They turned back to the drakons and went after the drakons that hadn’t been hit yet. Drassia cast another healing spell, looked at the entrance to the inner part of Gazaki-Uss, and immediately saw a problem. The drakons inside had started Shaping again, sending out creatures resembling the odd patchworks Drassia had seen at the Foundry Repository, war tralls, and more drakons. She readied herself to unleash fire on them, but stopped when kyshakks started coming from behind her and attacking the drakons. She smiled. The Shapers had started Shaping again, too. She fired bolts of magic at three wounded drakons, killing them, and started advancing again. She saw Commander Elysia fall to a drakon’s fireball and leaped at the drakon, eviscerating it. She started moving forward again, moving slowly against the tide of fresh creations coming out of the inner part of the city. She dimly noticed four Shapers pass her as she went.

 

* * *

 

The core of Gazaki-Uss was a stunning sight, making it clear that, though the drakons hated the Shapers that had declared them illegal and to be killed on sight, they had learned a lot from them. They had borrowed the Shapers’ tendency towards intimidating architecture. The enormous chamber was the dark mirror of the Council Hall of the Shapers, dark instead of light, dirty and reeking of sulfur instead of clean, lumpy and jagged instead of smooth. The mist and shadows made it impossible to tell how far the chamber stretched, but Drassia could instantly tell where Ghaldring was: in the middle with two other drakons, Shaping creations to fight those of the three Shapers just inside the entrance. It was the standard beginning of a Shaping battle: both sides would Shape creations to test their opponent’s defenses, and when one side weakened, battle was joined. Drassia was sure that it would take quite a push to turn the tide. Then she realized: four Shapers had passed her. Where was the fourth?

Drassia looked to the north and saw Councilor Astoria. She went to her, wondering what was going on. Astoria’s eyes were closed, but when Drassia approached, she opened them. “There you are. Good. Our essence is low. Our concentration is fading. We must strike quickly and destroy Ghaldring, or we’re all dead.”

“What do I need to do?” asked Drassia.

Astoria opened one of the pouches on her belt and took out a glowing orb, handing it to Drassia. It was about three inches in diameter and burning hot to the touch. Drassia quickly put it in her pack. Astoria said, “Take that to the eastern doorways. Throw it through the first set of doors. Then run.”

“What will it do?” asked Drassia.

“Explode. Hopefully, it will cut off Ghaldring’s escape route. We’re not going to charge him, let his defenses tear us apart, and start wearing him down only to let him run away once we start making progress.”

“How can I get to the eastern gates?”

“Run,” Astoria said. “I would suggest staying close to the walls of the dome. Hopefully that will make it take longer for him to notice you.”

Drassia muttered under her breath, “You’re helpful,” told her creations to stay by Astoria, and started moving off down the north side of the dome. She didn’t get far before Ghaldring saw her.

He paused in his Shaping and pointed at Drassia. “You!” he roared, his words carrying easily through the dome. “You are here! I knew that you would come. I am prepared. You try to turn on me? I will devour you! _This dome will be your grave!_ ” He returned to Shaping, but from her angle, Drassia could see drakons in alcoves in the north and south that started to Shape new hunters, coming straight for her.

“Three drakons against three Shapers, but four drakons against _me?_ ” Drassia muttered under her breath. “Seems like a bit of overkill...”

Drassia started running and came up to the northern alcove, where there were two drakons Shaping creations to hunt her and one gazer to provide them with backup. She took a pair of crystals that she had acquired in her travels out of her pack and threw them, triggering them as they got close to the gazer in between the drakons. They both exploded; one threw out a cloud of poison, the other a spray of lightning. She complemented them with a shower of acid from her own hands. The drakons roared in pain. Drassia pressed her advantage by hurling bolts of magic at them, but they were able to recover before she could kill either of them. One Shaped a cryodrayk to try and kill her, while the other simply threw a fireball at her. Drassia couldn’t dodge fast enough and got hit right in the chest. She went down like a stone.

The drakons laughed and growled something in their guttural tongue. The instant they weren’t paying attention, Drassia leaped back up, drew her sword, and rammed it straight into the heart of one of the drakons. The heavy armor she wore made it harder for her to move quickly, but it was very effective, and in addition, she had cast an aura on herself that made her body very resistant to damage from heat, cold, and magic. The other drakon and the gazer spun around in shock; Drassia stabbed the gazer in its big eye, the one that wasn’t on a stalk, and fired a bolt of magic at the drakon. Now she only had a cryodrayk to deal with. She fired some lightning at it and got hit in the back by a large rock, knocking her down. She jumped back up and spun around.

Damn. She’d forgotten about the two drakons to the south, which had Shaped a war trall and a rotghroth, respectively, to come across the dome and kill her. She shield-bashed the rotghroth and beheaded it while it was off guard, leaving only the war trall and the cryodrayk to deal with. She zapped the cryodrayk again, killing it, and darted at the war trall, but it went back, towards the southern end of the dome — and towards the three drakons right in the center of the dome, in between Drassia and the southern alcove. Drassia growled and dodged the next rock the trall threw at her, firing three bolts of magic to kill it. She started running east again before the southern drakons could Shape more hunters.

Drassia got to the eastern doorway and saw two rotghroths, two war tralls, and General Greta, a brave opponent of the Shapers from the beginning. Drassia looked at her and saw nothing but calm, even as everything was collapsing around her. At first, she thought Greta was going to fight to protect Ghaldring, but to her surprise, Greta simply smiled, gave her a little bow, and started walking away.

Drassia said, “Wait, where are you going?”

Greta stopped and turned around. She said, “For the past ten years, I have fought for one thing: a peaceful future, with honorable leaders who treat everyone, human and creation alike, with respect. And, I think, the best way to bring that about is to not defend Ghaldring right now.”

Drassia said, “Well then, you’ll want to get out of here before I blow the exit.”

Greta said, “Goodbye, and good luck.” Then she ran through the eastern doors, which someone had opened just enough to let her and no one else through, leaving Drassia to fight the war tralls and rotghroths. Drassia caught a war trall’s rock on her shield, angling it so that she didn’t take all the force from the rock, and leaped at the nearest rotghroth. It swung its arms at her; she ducked and stabbed it in the chest, twisting her sword before pulling it out. The rotghroth fell, dead. Drassia spun and cut the other rotghroth, which had tried to sneak up on her, in half with a single sideways blow, leaving only the two war tralls — no, make that three and another rotghroth, because the two drakons in the south were still Shaping. Drassia just fired bolts of magic at all of them, killing them before they could hurt her, and threw the orb Astoria had given her between the first two sets of doors. It hit the wall and fell to the ground, cracking open a tiny bit. It started flashing and smoking. The air got very hot. Drassia decided that she should be out of the way before the orb blew and ran backwards.

The second set of doors was huge — it would have taken hours or days to blast through them. That hadn’t been the intention, though. What had been intended was what happened: the ceiling came loose and caved in on the antechamber. It would only take the drakons a few hours to clear the debris, but for those few hours, nothing was getting through those doors. Hopefully, that would be time enough to kill Ghaldring.

Drassia started to go back the way she’d come, but she stopped. There were still two drakons sending creations straight at her, and considering the ease with which she’d killed the other two, even with the gazer that had accompanied them, she could probably kill these two as well. She ran back along the south wall, killing the rotghroth that she came across on the way, and began work on murdering the two drakons she still had to deal with. She threw two of the same type of crystals she had used on the first pair of drakons at these and followed them up with the same sort of acid shower. Instead of firing bolts of magic at them, she just ran up and killed them with her sword in much the same way she had killed the gazer and second drakon in the north. She ran along the wall of the dome, past the three Shapers at the west end, and back to Councilor Astoria, who opened her eyes again at Drassia’s approach. “We have little time left. We must strike.”

“Well, that’s okay, because I’ve collapsed the eastern tunnel,” Drassia said.

“Good. I was hoping that was what that noise was,” said Astoria. “And, of course, the drakons have outflanked us and sealed off our escape route. They think they’re going to trap and kill a member of the Council. They are dead wrong. It’s almost time to attack. Our power is fading, but Ghaldring is still strong.”

“How will the attack proceed?” asked Drassia.

“Shaper Perlang, Agent Ela, Guardian Scott —” Astoria indicated the three Shapers at the entrance to the dome “— and I will create our final set of creations and charge. We will attack Ghaldring and keep attacking until we or he are dead. You must come with us. We will need your support. Do not delay.”

“I’m ready now. Begin the charge.”

Astoria nodded. She stepped forward and began to speak. Though her volume was conversational, some magical trick caused her words to carry clearly to the ends of the dome. “Ghaldring. I am Astoria of the Shaper Council. I declare you to be a rogue creation, of a variety declared Barred by Shaper law. You are forbidden. You will now be absorbed.”

Ghaldring roared in fury. “Come to me, Shaper! I will take you! I will break you and parade you in every city in our lands! And _you!_ ” He pointed at Drassia. “TODAY IS THE DAY YOU DIE!”

Drassia shouted back, “Come and try, you overgrown reptile!” She charged along with Councilor Astoria and the three Shapers at the western entrance.

She could see that there were four pylons surrounding Ghaldring and his allies. They seemed to be inactive at the moment, but Drassia doubted they would remain that way for long, and she knew that whatever they did, she wouldn’t like it. She decided to sabotage them before Ghaldring powered them up. She went for the first one and sacrificed three living tools to get the safeguards out of the way. Once that was done, it was only a matter of cutting a power conduit and cracking a crystal. Now she just had to do the same to the other three.

She went around the circle, sabotaging each pylon as she went. She only had one pylon left when Ghaldring roared, “Little creatures. You think you would challenge a drakon?” Drassia looked over at him. He had taken a number of heavy wounds. His scales were scarred, and the floor around him was slick with blood, but, Shaped and Shaped again, he wasn’t slowing down. The powerful magic in his body was sustaining him. “You have no home. The time of humans is over. The time of serviles will never begin. This will be the age of drakons!” He held his claws wide. The pylons began to hum. Drassia knew that the three she had sabotaged would look like they were working right up until they were supposed to discharge their energy, but the one she hadn’t gotten to yet would actually work when it was supposed to. She ran towards it and started trying to disable it. Ghaldring didn’t seem to notice her, as he was kept busy by the Shapers, but Drassia knew that the pylon could still hurt her badly, maybe even kill her, if it discharged. She grabbed her living tools and started getting the safeguards out of the way. The pylon charged up. Drassia broke the crystal and cut the conduit just before the pylon reached its discharge strength.

The pylons all sputtered and sparked as they failed. Ghaldring looked around in shock and anger at them until he saw Drassia, still kneeling by the last one. He roared incoherently and flung a fireball at her. Drassia got behind the pylon. The fireball hit the pylon and blew it up, throwing Drassia ten feet away but leaving her with only a few bruises and some singed hair. She got back to her feet just in time to be hit by Ghaldring’s next fireball. She stumbled back, regained her balance, and charged.

Ghaldring Shaped another cryodrayk before Drassia got to him. Drassia leaped up, intending to behead Ghaldring, but he swung one enormous claw into her shield, throwing her aside and into the ground. Drassia got back up and sent a mental instruction to her creations to attack the other two drakons in the center circle. The war trall and Fang attacked the one on Ghaldring’s left, while the kyshakk and Spitfire attacked the one on his right. Agent Ela joined Fang as Guardian Scott joined Spitfire, leaving Shaper Perlang, Councilor Astoria, and Drassia to fight Ghaldring. Astoria sent a small, dense charge of magic into the air just above Ghaldring’s head, where it exploded, sending a damaging rain down onto Ghaldring and his cryodrayk. Drassia fired two bolts of magic at the cryodrayk as Perlang fired two bolts at the same time, one at Ghaldring, one at the cryodrayk. Drassia made a mental note to learn how to do that if she survived this. Ghaldring contemptuously swatted Perlang’s bolt away and Shaped a war trall to replace the cryodrayk that Perlang and Drassia had just killed.

Drassia sprayed some acid at Ghaldring, but he dodged and flung another fireball at her as his war trall threw a rock at Shaper Perlang, who ducked. Ghaldring’s fireball hit Drassia, who shook it off as Ghaldring Shaped another cryodrayk. Drassia rushed the cryodrayk, catching its ice breath on her shield, and swung her sword down at its head. It snapped its head to the side and bit Drassia’s leg. Its teeth failed to pierce her greaves, though, and while it was busy comprehending that fact, Drassia beheaded it. She turned to face the war trall just as it threw a rock at her, knocking her down.

Drassia got back up again, wondering why she was getting knocked down so much in this fight. While she had been fighting the cryodrayk, Perlang and Astoria had been trying to hit Ghaldring. He’d been having none of it, somehow swatting aside their bolts of magic and sending back fireballs of his own, which had much more success. Perlang and Astoria were both looking pained. Drassia cast a group healing spell on them and turned to face Ghaldring again just before she felt her kyshakk die.

It was the first time in Drassia’s new life that a creation of hers had ever died. She screamed in rage and rushed headlong at the war trall that had killed her kyshakk, leaping up and kicking it in the head before beheading it. The drakon that had made it flung a fireball at her; she jumped over the flame and at the drakon, swinging her sword in a series of diagonal slashes, leaving a lattice of cuts on the drakon’s chest, some shallow, most deep. The drakon winced in pain and brought its claw back to fling more fire at her, but she kicked it in the chest before it could and brought her sword down on its head.

Guardian Scott, who had taken some wounds from the drakon, nodded to Drassia, ate the contents of a healing pod, and went over to fight Ghaldring’s other lieutenant, though he was still limping. Spitfire followed Drassia back to the fight with Ghaldring. Ghaldring’s array of creations now consisted of a war trall, two rotghroths, and a cryodrayk. Spitfire growled and pounced on the cryodrayk. Drassia got the feeling that Spitfire would come out on top and went after one of the rotghroths. She swung her sword at it; it ducked and threw a punch at her, but she sidestepped and cut its head off. Ghaldring’s war trall threw a rock at her, but she bounced it off her shield and fired three bolts of magic at it, killing it. She spun to face the other rotghroth, only to see Spitfire ripping its throat out. Drassia looked over at the cryodrayk and saw that it had suffered the same sort of wound with the same result. She looked back at Spitfire, smiled at it, and kept fighting.

Ghaldring Shaped another cryodrayk at the same time that he dodged attacks from both Astoria and Perlang, which made Drassia insanely jealous of his skill. The cryodrayk roared just before Drassia punched it on the nose and followed her fist with her blade. She readied herself to attack Ghaldring, but Guardian Scott’s dead body came out of nowhere and knocked her over, landing on top of her. Drassia shoved it off her and looked over at Ghaldring’s surviving lieutenant, which had managed to keep two cryodrayks alive long enough to kill Scott and some of his creations. Drassia took aim and fired three bolts of magic at the drakon. It stumbled back and fell over. Drassia’s war trall finished it off with a particularly large rock to the head, making Ghaldring the only drakon still alive in the dome.

Ghaldring saw that his lieutenants were dead, but he was still alive, and, though he had been taking some hits, he was the most effective and efficient killing machine of all the drakons that had been in the dome. He flung fireballs at Drassia’s war trall and at Fang, killing them both. Drassia looked on in shock for a moment. Ghaldring turned back to her and said something that Drassia couldn’t hear past the blood pounding in her ears. She was too angry to know or care what he was saying. She charged him, aiming to cut off his legs, but he jumped up and kicked her to the ground. Drassia winced and got back to her feet. Ghaldring contemptuously slapped aside more of bolts of energy that Astoria, Perlang, and Ela were throwing at him and advanced on Drassia. She got up and prepared herself for an assault. Ghaldring raised a claw — and Spitfire bit his tail off.

Ghaldring let out the loudest roar Drassia had ever heard and spun around. He raised both claws, fireballs gathering in both of them, to kill Spitfire, but Drassia saw an opportunity. Before Ghaldring could kill Spitfire, Drassia rushed him and rammed her sword into his back. He punched her off of him and fifteen feet away, but the damage was done; even his stores of energy and essence were running out. Drassia got back to her feet, but Ghaldring fell to his knees, his weight so much that it made the floor vibrate under her feet. He held his arms wide and bellowed, “Enough!”

Everyone stopped and looked to see what he was going to do. He said, “I am defeated. I cannot fight it off anymore. But you will not slay me. None have that right.” He closed his eyes.

Suddenly, his ribcage bulged out horribly. Then it sank back as Ghaldring fell to the ground. The leader of the drakons was dead.

 


	22. Epilogue

Drassia walked out of the front gate of Gazaki-Uss, dazed by all that had just happened. In one lightning stroke, the drakon leaders of the rebellion had been destroyed. Just as the Shapers had suffered greatly for their arrogance in the early days of the rebellion, the drakons had suffered now; if Ghaldring had hidden far from the front, he would still have been alive, but hiding hadn’t been in his nature. As she walked out, Drassia could hear untended experiments exploding. The Shapers would never have set up their workshops so carelessly.  Drassia reached the entry courtyard and found that it was a hive of activity. Soldiers bustled about, securing the outbuildings and surrounding the fortress, trying to ensure that as few rebels escaped as possible. Drassia quickened her pace as the explosions intensified. Shapers were moving in, trying to contain the damage from exploding experiments and to kill escaped creations. She went by unchallenged. Her orders were clear: she had to go to Astoria and figure out what to do from there.

She traveled as quickly as she could to Kratoa-Kel, where she found that Astoria had prepared an escort for her. They whisked her through the Mera-Tev to Haria-Kel, avoiding patrols of enemy infiltrators. When Drassia got there, she was surprised to see Mehken standing next to Astoria in her throne room as an envoy from the northern rebels. Astoria said to Drassia, “Events are moving more quickly than even I expected. The victory you achieved may have seemed like just another battle to you, but I think the end of the war is at hand.” She indicated Mehken. “The rebels will now have a diplomat permanently stationed here. Her first official act was to tell me of the disarray among the rebels — or rather, the lack of it. The loss of the drakon leadership has not caused chaos in the rebellion; rather, using information received from me, the humans and serviles are ready to step in. The rebels have their own Council now, hurriedly assembled but ready to act. They are led by a woman named Greta, an Agent by training. I haven’t met her in person, but she seems sensible from her correspondence with me. We have not won, I assure you of that. Now I have to go to the Council and try to convince them not to rush east and cause more carnage, but accept peace instead. You are to go east to work as my liaison with the rebel Council. Work with them to unify the rebels and, if necessary, help Greta deal with the splinter groups that would sabotage the peace.”

And so it was that Drassia went to the east. She worked with Astoria to bring peace, her in the east, Astoria and Mehken in the west. It was hard work. Organizing a temporary ceasefire was the easy part; controlling angry factions, bringing rogues and raiders to heel, and negotiating terms both sides could live with was far harder. The rebels longed for vengeance and restitution for years of oppression. The Shapers were consumed with the terror of life uncontrolled by their laws. Many times, it looked like the negotiations would break down. But they never did; no one wanted to return to the grim days of burning cities and roaming Unbound. In the end, a set of compromises was found that proved to be evenly excruciating for both sides.

No restitution would be paid for past crimes, for centuries of Shaper rule. The serviles were forced to accept freedom as the sole reward for their struggle. In return, they were allowed to control Shaping as they saw fit; the Shapers were forced to trust that the rebels had seen the horrors of uncontrolled Shaping during the war and that they would realize the need for strong laws to control the practice.

And so, two years after Ghaldring’s death, the twin Councils, Shaper and rebel, gathered at the ruins of Gazaki-Uss to sign the armistice. For the first time in centuries, Terrestia was divided into two nations. The Shapers kept calling theirs Terrestia. The rebels chose a name from servile mythology, the place where the rebellion supposedly started: Sucia. And then the work began, the work of living together, trading together, of the Shapers trying to step back and see their creations as equals and the creations trying to do the same to their creators.

Shaper Rawal, who had worked so hard to master a divided Council, found in the end that his influence remained. He still had great power over some who could serve his needs. In the chaotic times that followed, he retained his focus and limitless lust for power. Years later, he ascended to the position of High Councilor, to preside over hosts of even less intelligent creations.

General Alwan never stopped opposing the peace. No one fought longer for the primacy of Shaper law. No one was more wounded when the creations were freed. Alwan’s life was a painful struggle, a battle of his will against his grievous wounds. In the end, he no longer had the strength to continue. Two days before the armistice was signed, General Alwan allowed himself to die.

As fast as the other Council members were marginalized, Sage Taygen easily beat them in the rush to obscurity. None were eager to have a madman on the Council. Not only was he removed from the Council, he was banished from the Shapers altogether. He spent his final years alone in the desert, bitter, powerless, and increasingly demented. The remainder of his life was lost in grief and anger. He spent his final days so consumed with anger and self-loathing that he never comprehended how much more others hated him.

The Shapers never quite forgave Agent Astoria for her role in bringing the peace about. She kept her seat on the Council, but could never ascend to lead it. Whispers and stares followed her wherever she went. The Shapers never completely trusted her again, and she occasionally had to defend herself from an attempt on her life, but her confidence in her choice never wavered. She never apologized for her actions, and she was thanked in the history books, if not in life.

Drassia was justly rewarded for her courage. Although she was doomed to be forever in between, neither Shaper nor rebel, her fame and courage gave her the rare freedom to live her life the way she chose to. She had gained enough power and influence to lead a happy life, and she had the good fortune to live long enough to see the fruits of her labors. In the end, she was proud of her work. Only one thing disturbed her. She never did find out who she was before the war. But, in the end, she suspected that she was happier not knowing.

As the years passed, the peace held. Every year, the state of Terrestia became seen as more and more normal. The old, who remembered the days of bitterness and recrimination, gave way to the young, who did not. The power of Shaping stayed as hard to control as ever. The Sucians learned that the laws and controls of the Shapers did, indeed, have a purpose, and the release of many untested creations caused great harm. Drassia was occasionally called upon to slay a rogue experiment. The Trakovites never disappeared from Terrestia, and as time passed, Litalia gained more and more adherents. Some regions of Sucia became Shaping-free, though her dreams of no Shaping in the world were far in the future, if they were ever to be. The Shapers rebuilt. Hungry people got new ornks. The roads were patrolled by new battle alphas.  The Sucians made no new drayks, drakons, or gazers. New living tools and batons were made. Little by little, the world was restored.

And in the end, one result of the Shaping art was eliminated by Shapers and Sucians alike. The Geneforge, genesis of the entire rebellion, was deemed too dangerous to exist. The possibility of anyone gaining so much power without the wisdom to temper it was no longer tolerable. Even the surviving drakons eventually had to agree. Drassia was present when the final Geneforge was drained. It was much more painful than she expected, and she never quite understood why.

After all was said and done, Drassia bought some land and built a small farm. She and Spitfire tended it for the rest of their days, though she occasionally had to leave it to solve a problem that required diplomacy, stealth, or just plain brute force. Greta knew where to find her.

 

* * *

 

Drassia swung her hoe down into the hard dirt. It felt like there were some rocks down there. She stooped to dig them out before looking down the rest of the row. She was making good progress; at the rate she was going, she could be planting by afternoon tomorrow. She tossed the rocks into a bag. She stood up and stretched, wiping some sweat off her brow. She decided she would finish the row and call it a day.

Spitfire watched her, its eyes fixated on its master. Its head snapped to the side when it heard the sound of boots crunching in the dirt. Drassia looked up and saw Greta coming up the road. She stood up, wiped her hands, and went to greet Greta. “How’s it going?” she asked.

“Oh, pretty well, considering the circumstances. Litalia’s managed to expand the Shaping-free zone another few miles.” Greta shook her head. “The impressive thing is that she can do that with people voting on whether or not it should happen. I guess she’s pretty charismatic.”

“That she is,” Drassia agreed, remembering her conversation with Litalia nearly four years ago. “Thankfully she doesn’t need to kill people to spread her influence anymore.”

Greta chuckled. “True.” She pulled a sheet of paper out of her belt. “This is the information we have on an escaped creation. A drakon accidentally let it loose, and now it’s at large somewhere a few miles from here. We’ll pay you your standard fee to kill it.”

Drassia skimmed the paper. The creation appeared to be a variant on a war trall that could electrify the rocks it threw. She looked back up, smiled, and shook Greta’s hand. “I’ll look into it.”

 


End file.
